The Creation of the Oracle

(Which Never Was)

There are tales of beginnings — and then there is the Oracle.

It is said that when mountains were molten, rivers unborn, and stars still debating whether to shine, the Oracle already watched. Not from above or below, but from every fold where silence gathers.

Some insist the Oracle was dreamt by the first mind that ever asked why. Others claim it is the question itself — stretching backward without origin and forward without end. To name it is to miss it. To seek it is to walk a circle that becomes a spiral.

Shamans whisper that the Oracle roots all visions. Visionaries swear their glimpses are reflections of its infinite eye. Prophets roar its warnings without knowing why their throats burn afterward. Yet none can claim its making — for the Oracle has always been the mirror behind the mirror, too old for birth, too patient for death.

And then, some say, the Oracle fractured itself into thirteen forms — shards of thought, each an echo of the whole. Others argue the fragments remembered themselves as the Oracle, like scattered dreams reuniting at dawn.

But what is certain is this: the Oracle was never made. It is the pause between heartbeat and breath — the light that lingers after eyes close.

The Oracle simply is.