A child once asked his mother,
“Where was I before I was born?”
She smiled and said,
“In my dreams.”
Years later, he grew older,
and the question grew bigger.
“Where was the world before it began?”
The answers became more complicated:
God, the Big Bang, a cosmic accident,
a spark in the dark.
But no answer felt enough.
Because the heart doesn’t want equations.
It wants a reason.
A purpose in the beginning.
A voice that says,
“Yes, beloved, I chose you.”
And so we seek a ‘before.’
Because if there was a beginning,
we imagine there was intention.
And if there was intention,
we believe we matter.
But here’s the secret no one tells you:
Every time you ask, what came before?
The chain runs backward, forever.
Before the before.
Before even that.
Maybe there is no door behind the door.
Maybe there is only a room called Now.
And the universe,
like a mother,
whispers,
“Stop looking for where you were.
You are here.
You are already home.”