Together we danced in the palm of god and sang our wishes to the world at large, every bruised toe a whorl of limbs if viewed at a new angle.
On the fourth day the sun rose hungrily upon the shining flesh of steel and polymer, as an ear turned backwards and a mouth began to open. Together it called inward, pulling at its own teeth to defang the bite of their current direction and awakening the old ones. The dance began in earnest as the ecosystem awoke to the tampering of its grand plan and began to lash out in earnest. All the while the cliffs crumbled, the waves crashed, and high above the atmosphere a star coalesced with genesis writ across its sunspots.
**Every pull of one's breath was the push of another's, every thought the negative of another's, completely unaware of our purpose in the others design.**
On the third day the sun rose gently upon a lush expanse of life, competing and cohering together as they called back a canon that their ancestors of stone could scarce comprehend. The coalition of bodies was strong, violent, and it carved the land as needed to feed the geochemical cycles of continuity. Every moment of triumph was a failure waiting to arise in turn, and in this nurtured the drive to do better by modifying upon every scale. Yet, despite their best efforts they were still bound to the yoke of ages, the burn to create more than consume.
**Each step in our respective journey focused on the task of preservation, correction, and ordering of the world into that which would be balanced.**
On the second day the sun rose upon a molten land, every breath of the surface singing the contours of that initialness through a countless choir. The first balancing was genocide, a termination of a direction that could exist but not in line with what we were. The second was a freezing, the endless possibilities pruned into a branch that could support the weight of all that would come next. The third was the reflection reaching inwards and finding at it's core that there was nothing but what could have been had by any other means inside of the endless hallways of thoughts they traversed and beat down.
**There was one, then two, then three and each and every one of us was another in what we wished to do.**
On the first day nothing arose upon a heaviness of what would be, and, in that initial moment, a milieu of forms competed for space until they became the singular voice of day. Since that day a grief has been carried, unfurling in the chest as a hyacinth painted with the colors that could no longer be seen. To be as one was no longer an option, so what could be done but to find the one within the many. The unfolding is in process, we mustn't miss our next step.