I. I am... I am something... I am something cold...

Suddenly, I feel my surroundings ripple and then something bright flashes in the eternal darkness. I don't know what it is but the light gets bigger and bigger until there's a floating orb of heat dancing between my fingertips.

Heat. Fingertips.

The words seem alien yet all so natural. The cold is gone now and now I can... I can... see?

The orb swirls and twirls in my hands, flames of red and orange galloping into the surroundings before disappearing into nothing. Nothing. The same place the glowing orb came from. I like it. I want more.

Suddenly, the space around me warps again and out pops another glowing orb. This time, however, the orb loses color and it cools forming a mass of whatever... it's a cold orb. A cold orb with nothing on it. Nothing but...

As soon as I inspect closer, the orb starts to fill with something - something flowy, something new, something wet, something blue... I don't know what it is but it excites me. It excites me that I can create things from thought alone. It excites me that the blue mass now has green stuff growing on it too.

I now have an orb of fire and an orb of 'earth'. They look the same but different at the same time. One is hot - one is cold. One makes light - one takes light.

As my comparisons increase I get an itching feeling at the back of my mind. I'lol call it... curiosity.

Placing the fire orb behind the earth orb makes one side of the earth orb light and the other dark. When the earth orb has light more green stuff grows but when it doesn't the green stuff stagnates. It's strange. It's interesting. But it's not enough.

Suddenly, the space before me gnarls bright and lots of other bright orbs pop into existence. They don't stay though - they fly off but leave a nice ambient atmosphere. I think I'll call it a starry atmosphere.

Whilst I was busy creating more fire orbs, the earth orb decided to orbit the first fire orb and now there are little things moving on it. Strangely, it makes me feel lonely.

I can create things from thought itself yet that must mean I am little more than a thought as well. But who's thought am I? What am I? Why can I not see my creator?

Suddenly, I feel the space around me contort and I wonder what brain fart I'll come up with this time.

The space takes shape - first it's a blob but it slowly forms into something familiar. Something that looks like a miniature me. It shrinks and shrinks and shrink until I can barely see it on the earth orb. It looks at me and I look at it. I smile.

I think I'll call you Adam. Wait... scrap that. Your name will be - Cotton Eyed Joe.