The Oratorio
In the beginning there was a bright white nothing. The Great Skald pierced their own instruments of change and reached out to touch the void. From the humors flowed multitudinous tendrils that snaked and warped creating the world in one continuous stroke.
And what a work it was, though incomplete.
The same line that drew the bottom of the ocean etched the highest mountain points and right up into the sky a beacon of light and swashes of cloud and star. This artwork coursed and surrounded the Great Skald until that was all that could be seen, layering on and on as depth lent itself to the hints of beings great and small, fragments of life that would populate the work.
And what a work it was, though incomplete.
The Great Skald then reached into the mortal tapestry of the new world and pulled from it the frayed threads and touched them to tongue. The wetting then returned to the works where the vibrant hues saturated the art spread like watercolors.
And what a work it was, though incomplete.
At last the unending coil of song was released into the world and we were born by breath into stories where we shaped our fables by deed and firelight. The Great Skald dove in to join us once and only once... where a handful were gathered to gain purpose by the bard's tale.
Because what a work it was, though forevermore incomplete.
