Voices from Womb

In a quiet, warm world filled with muffled sounds and a rhythmic heartbeat, two unborn twins floated in their mother’s womb. They had never seen light, nor walked on land, but they could feel each other, hear distant sounds, and wonder — about what lies beyond.

Twin A (the believer):
Do you ever feel… like there’s more to this place? Like someone… someone bigger than us is taking care of us?

Twin B (the skeptic):
You mean the Mother myth again? Please. We’ve been over this. There’s no proof. I can’t see her, I can’t touch her. All I know is you, me, and this cramped, warm sack.

Twin A:
But don't you feel that heartbeat? That steady rhythm? It’s not ours. Something else is sustaining us — feeding us through this cord, keeping us safe. Doesn’t that mean something?

Twin B:
It means biology. That’s all. We’re self-sufficient in here. And this cord? Temporary plumbing. Soon, it’ll be gone. And so will we.

Twin A:
But what if… after this, there’s something more? What if birth is just the beginning — like a tunnel to another realm?

Twin B:
You mean this nonsense about "life after delivery"? No one’s ever come back to tell the tale. For all we know, delivery means the end — oblivion.

Twin A:
Yet every time I stretch or dream, I feel a presence — like a whisper, or a gentle push. It comforts me. Even though I can’t see her, I know she’s there. Maybe that’s what faith is. Knowing, without needing to see.

Twin B:
Faith? Sounds like fear dressed up nicely. I only believe in what I experience. And right now, that’s darkness, silence, and your rambling.

Twin A:
Okay, let me ask you this — if there is no mother, then where does this food come from? This heartbeat? This warmth? Who keeps the rhythm going?

Twin B:
Coincidence. Maybe it’s just us. Maybe we made it up to feel safe. I don’t need a “Mother” to explain mystery.

Twin A:
But maybe mystery itself is the evidence. Like the way we don’t understand the stars, but we still trust the night.
And maybe… we are not alone. Maybe she’s been here all along, just waiting for us to be ready — for the moment we’re born into her arms.

Twin B (quiet for a moment):
And what if… you’re wrong?

Twin A (smiling softly):
Then at least I spent my time in hope, not fear. But what if I’m right?

The conversation of the twins mirrors our own debate about existence, God, and the beyond. Just like the womb holds mystery, so does our world. We may not see the Divine the way we see buildings or people, but we feel it — in moments of love, peace, or even longing.

Like the baby who trusts the mother's presence before ever seeing her, perhaps our belief in God, too, is an act of faith — the kind that blooms in the dark, but leads us to the light.