They Came

It came together like a wind of the will blowing through their aspects. Buffeting up the relentless and never dying down.

They'd spent their time in limbo counting the days, risking the convulsions and searching with torchlight prisms, keepers of meaning.

Repenting the counting was above deviance and seeking a release was beyond meaning.

They had caricatured their veins to reflect to absorb sunlight and releasing heated breath, they tempted the nymphs of destiny.

They knew no keepers else, and signalled their descent upon winding gales down into the pond of creation, where scaly rocks were all that had come forth.

Death thus was a beginning and not an end, the silent guardian of meaning, who would rewrite their cataclysmic convulsion and enter chaos with a pact.

This was the birth of us.