“Are you ready?” he asked her. “Irrelevant!” she replied.
“The cosmic countdown is almost complete.”A moment of silence went by.“Are you ready?” he asked again.
She heaved her shoulders and tore her gaze from the white oblivion she was focused on. She turned around, met his gaze and smiled weakly.
“Do you think this is all my fault?” she asked.
“I think that everything happens for a reason,” he stood up and walked towards her. “I believe there is a purpose to everything.”
“You sound like someone I know,” she chuckled. “To answer your question, I have been ready from the very beginning. You?”
“Every choice I’ve made has included sufficient room for error and mistakes,” he replied. “You never had such a luxury, unfortunately.”
“Be that as it may,” she shrugged her shoulders, “free will is something that eludes even me, sometimes.”
“But this is not about free will, is it?” he asked.
“No, Yeshua,” Akasha replied. “This is about the fate of Creation.”
Creation came to standstill. The Scribe watched as the vibration of chaos morphed into an etheric black hole in the Core of Creation. This etheric black hole began pulling everything into its expanding event horizon and undoing Creation by tearing Creation apart ether by ether. The Scribe’s grin broadened as he watched the most beautiful simulation of the unfolding of his purpose, which was perfectly in sync with The Cosmic Spark.