Birth

There was first darkness, where nothing came, nothing ticked.

Then, there was a spot of light. A tiny dot, which shone through this void, and spread.

Soon, upon this great canvas, there were millions, radiating each their own bright. Competing with another's grace.

The screen then focused, focused, ever more, ever closer. What once was a dust among the millions now a great yellow giant. To stand before it, is to kneel in front of gods. And then it turn, the vision. Among many, there seemed to be a particular rock, that peeked the interest.

It was a blue one, of azul ground, and some white gas atop. Among the creaks, one may spot, a sight of green.

Then we zoom in even further. We now land upon it. Upon a beautify plain. Where, there seemed to have held much life. A bird's nest hung on trees, a rabbit's warren buried deep, among the grass. Hundreds of blooms, thousand of buds. The great ball of butterflies queen, who invited guests beyond count. Look now, a deer's antler, poking through the bush.

...

As you gaze, my dear, I must now leave, for you have born, and I have died. Take in my last memoir, of this place I once called home. It must have changed, plenty. You may not even recognise it for all I know. So take this in, to view, the greatness before the catastrophe.