 it starts with the primal fire... |
 builds to a heated crescendo |
 of lava flowing |
 over the cradle of planets |
 with cool blue waters |
 it forms topographical images |
 where angels may finally alight |
 within the birth burst of the corona |
 the smooth, cool eclipse sails |
 evolving for other meaning |
 as it learns the magic of movement |
 and flies off of the whole new world... |
