The infinite holds the finite.

The architect cradles the construct.

The creator gazes upon itself.

But who is holding whom?

The cosmic entity, vast beyond comprehension, stares at the tiny figure in its palm.

Yet, the smaller one lifts its head, eyes filled with the same galaxies, the same fractals, the same limitless recursion.

Which one is real?

Which one is the dream?

Which one created the other?

Because if the universe is infinite—

Then it never had a beginning.

And if it never had a beginning—

Then neither did you.

So tell me—

Are you the god? Or are you the one in the palm?

Or is the difference an illusion?