On the first day the sun rose quiet on still waters
At the zenith the vapors rose from the one who drowns
On the first night the sun set stymied by new daughters
At the nadir the snows circled round the mountains crowns
On the second day the sun rose wrothful on shining brows
At the zenith the meltwaters fled the rugged slopes
On the second night the sun set sullen on shattered clows
At the nadir the fish cried their frigid horoscopes
On the third day the sun rose wary on banks now broke
At the zenith the fish climbed to see a path pain-free
On the third night the sun set bleary on earthbound cloak
At the nadir the waters returned to carve the scree
On the fourth day the sun rose slow on well-trodden earth
At the zenith the fish leapt body to body’s berth
On the fourth night the sun set lonely, an empty birth
At the nadir the fish flew on starlit scales, no mirth
On the first day the core vomited molten blame
At the peak the fish fled through the dark caliduct
On the first night the core risen malady bucked
At the ebb the fish swallowed whole the rising flame
On the second day the core raged against what belongs
At the peak the fish did thrash against a sharp rise
On the second night the core cooled to know its demise
At the ebb the wyrm’s tongue dripped poisoned songs
On the third day the core cracked open mountain’s glass
At the peak the wyrm crawled from the earth’s maw
On the third night the core spat stone that would not thaw
At the ebb the fish cracked and wept tears of the wrasse
On the fourth day the core broke feuds no longer new
At the peak the wyrm screamed out its sad coup
On the fourth night the core found peace within a brew
At the ebb the wyrm controlled every view
On the first day the moon set somber on slyvan safe
At the nadir the wyrm scrabbled free, now waif
On the first night the moon rose waxing as ages pass
At the zenith the wyrm groomed its scales and mass
On the second day the moon set softly on hallowed ewes
At the nadir the wyrm denied driftwood pews
On the second night the moon rose waning on shouldered pains
At the zenith the strand felt moss settle on sodden stains
On the third day the moon set kindly on shifting shores
At the nadir the strand uncoiled paths for growth on moors
On the third night the moon rose waxing on verdant signs
At the zenith the wyrm’s tongue held in bone tines
On the fourth day the moon set serene on thriving vines
At the nadir the strand found fat petals along thin lines
On the fourth night the moon rose waning as we now pine
At the zenith the strand basked as its verdure gently shines
On the first day the star shook for its only fright
At the ebb the strand eschewed the sun’s too-sovereign bind
On the first night the stars wheeled with their stolen might
At the peak the strand stood tall and sold its peace of mind
On the second day the star stole their downward turned eyes
At the ebb the strand unburdened, evanescent kind
On the second night the stars wove paths to hide from kind
At the peak the weaver rose to chase the skies
On the third day the star found company ashore
At the ebb the weaver’s stories wrapped in hoar
On the third night the stars charted to their place
At the peak the strand bowed and faded into light’s grace
On the fourth day the star seems joyfully secure
At the ebb the weaver wove clouds to obscure
On the fourth night the stars slept diffuse and demure
At the peak the weaver wept the fishes cure