On the first day the sun rose quiet on still waters
At the zenith the vapor shepherded from warm seas
On the first night the sun set stymied by crowded skies
At the nadir the snows guided to the mountains crown’s
On the second day the sun rose wrothful on shining skulls
At the zenith the meltwaters fled the mountain slopes
On the second night the sun set sullen on raging streams
At the nadir the fish cried out from the icy flows
On the third day the sun rose wary on deltas broke
At the zenith the fish climbed to sight a path pain-free
On the third night the sun set bleary on landlocked souls
At the nadir the waters returned to carve the land
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 belched a molten heat
At the peak the fish fell from gravity’s edict
On the first night the core swallowed the rising flames
At the ebb the fish’s body blackened and stretched
On the second day the core raged against knife-sharp ice
At the peak the fish then thrashed as pressures did rise
On the second night the core cooled to know its own paths
At the ebb the wyrm’s tongue dripped poisoned words
On the third day the core broke the mountains face
At the peak the wyrm crawled from the caves maw
On the third night the core spat stone that set anew
At the ebb the fish cracked and wept tears of old streams
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 barren earth
At the nadir the wyrm scrabbled free a waif
On the first night the moon rose waxing on an age past
At the zenith the wyrm groomed its scales and mouth
On the second day the moon set softly on empty eyes
At the nadir the wyrm passed driftwood altars
On the second night the moon rose waning on shouldered pains
At the zenith the strand felt moss settle its sodden spoors
On the third day the moon set kindly on working minds
At the nadir the strand uncoiled paths for growth once more
On the third night the moon rose waxing on verdant lines
At the zenith the wyrm shut its toxic tongue
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 on tired pines
At the zenith the strand basked as its verdure gently shines
On the first day the star shook for its own demise
At the ebb the strand eschewed the sun’s too-sovereign might
On the first night the stars wheeled through their stolen time
At the peak the strand stood tall and sold its peace of mind
On the second day the star took the downward turned eyes
At the ebb the strand unburdened, evanescent minds
On the second night the stars wove paths to hide from lies
At the peak the weaver rose to chase the skies
On the third day the star found company ashore
At the ebb the weaver traced stories to find
On the third night the stars charted constellations
At the peak the strand bowed and faded from lights embrace
On the fourth day the star was joyfully secure
At the ebb the weaver wove clouds to obscure
On the fourth night the stars were diffuse and demure
At the peak the weaver kept fishes lives pure