The fruit fell on the artist's eye.
Light chased and watered it.
Darkness and death formed its fertile soil.
The eye swallowed the fruit.
A sudden flash of light cut the fruit like lightning severing the dark clouds.
Inside was a seed...
a golden seed set with rubies.
A golden seed on the verge of sprouting, tremulous and throbbing.
The seed of life nourished by death.
The seed of consciousness cared for by ignorantly.
It trembled and quivered like a living heart.
The seed was revealed to the gaze by light.
The seed shook as the gaze intensified.
Once again, light met the gaze and the seed was split asunder.
The seed burst open and sound was born.
The sound of Pranavam, the cosmic note,
The first drone, the primordial music
The resonating note branched and filled the universe.
It sought every nook and corner.
Every atom, every molecule vibrated with it.
The black flame glowing in the eye of cosmos shook violently with the resounding note.
And then like a shy peacock unfurling its tail for the monsoon,
cosmos opened Her eye.
The eye of the artist had opened the eye of the cosmos.