The Secret of Existence

meless tale about creation, purpose, and the mystery behind lfore there was light, there was silence. Before time began, there was only stillness — an endless void without shape or sound. In that infinite emptiness, something stirred, like a thought at the edge of awareness. From the heart of nothingness, a whisper was born — soft, pure, eternal. That whisper became the first breath of creation.

The breath turned into light, the light into stars, and the stars into galaxies. The universe awakened, stretching its arms across infinity. Yet even as billions of stars blazed into existence, a question lingered in the fabric of space — why? Why should there be something instead of nothing?

Eons passed. The cosmos danced in its silent rhythm. Stars lived, burned, and died. Out of their ashes, new worlds were born. Among them was a small blue planet, delicate and alive — Earth. On its surface, the elements embraced: water met land, wind kissed flame, and from their union, life emerged.

Tiny sparks became creatures; creatures became tribes of intelligence. Among them arose a being unlike any other — human. Fragile in body, yet infinite in thought. Humanity looked to the stars and felt a pull, a question echoing from the dawn of creation: Who made us? Why are we here?

In a forgotten desert village lived a man named Arman. He was a thinker, a wanderer of thoughts. Every night he would lie beneath the open sky, watching the countless stars shimmer like eyes of eternity. The elders of his village told him stories of gods and destinies, but Arman’s heart sought a deeper truth.

“Why does existence exist?” he whispered one night to the wind. The wind did not answer, but it carried his voice across the dunes. That night, he dreamed of a figure made of radiant light. The being said, “Seek not the beginning, but the reason.”

Arman awoke trembling. He took the dream as a sign and set out on a journey. He crossed mountains veiled in snow, sailed over stormy seas, and walked through ancient forests where time itself seemed to sleep. He sought answers from every soul he met.

A philosopher told him, “The universe was born from chaos.”
A priest told him, “It was created by divine will.”
A poet whispered, “It exists so that beauty may be known.”

Yet none of their answers satisfied the hunger in his spirit.

Years passed. The seasons carved wrinkles into his face, but his eyes still burned with the same fire — the longing to understand. One cold morning, after decades of searching, Arman climbed a mountain that touched the clouds. From its peak, he could see the world stretched beneath him — rivers glimmering like veins of silver, forests breathing like green oceans, the endless horizon glowing under the rising sun.

There, surrounded by silence, he closed his eyes. And suddenly, everything became clear.

He saw that creation was not a riddle to solve, but a miracle to feel. The secret of existence was not hidden in distant stars or ancient texts — it lived within every heartbeat, every breath, every fleeting moment of love and pain.

He realized that life itself was the answer. That existence was not about why we are here, but how we live while we are. Every act of kindness, every thought of wonder, every tear shed for another — these were the true reflections of that first divine whisper.

Arman opened his eyes and smiled. The sun rose fully now, and its light poured across the world like a blessing. He whispered to the wind one final time, “The secret was never beyond me — it was within me all along.”

As he spoke, the wind seemed to bow in agreement, carrying his words across valleys and oceans, to all who still searched. “Existence,” he said softly, “is not a question to be answered — it is a mystery to be lived.”

That morning, Arman sat in silence, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face. He felt connected — to the stars above, to the earth beneath, and to the pulse of life flowing through all things. The same force that lit the stars burned quietly in his chest.

And in that stillness, he understood the greatest truth of all:
The universe did not need a reason to exist. Existence was the reason.

He closed his eyes, not in sorrow, but in peace. The mountain winds carried his breath away, merging with the rhythm of the world — the eternal music of being.

From that day onward, travelers who passed by the mountain spoke of a strange calm in the air, as if the land itself remembered him. Some said they could hear a faint whisper when the wind blew at dawn — a voice that said:

> “Look within, and you shall find the universe looking back.”



And so, the stars continued to burn, the seas continued to sing, and life went on — carrying within it the ancient secret of existence, waiting for every heart brave enough to listen