From the start, nothing present; a plain of a blank canvas. Disorganisation, matter unaligned, rather so a floating cacophony of sounds, shapes, senses, forms; a world with no description, no name; no meaning.
Shifting gears behind the fabric of the world. Hands of creation from shadows beneath. Worldly disorientation. Fate begins to turn, a creaking handle spun by the miraculous forces of realignment.
Phosphorescence illuminates the formerly shadowed horizons, a wave of effervescent light consuming the shapeless form previous, now in a unity of amplitude, to signal the coming rebirth. A shimmer of vivid lights burst out in an unnatural clarity. The sparkling skies of this new world dawn in flowing hues, watercolour blues, fervent crimsons, pastel greens, streaming across the sky like wayward kites across a distant summer afternoon. Colourless no more, the world a canvas of scattered colour, an orchestration of shades and tones, spanning vast through space.
Organised colours sweep into formations, space divided by shifting, the movement of matter to a greater manifestation. The separation of space and the lack there-of, organising into waves of gradient, mountainous peaks, flowing gorges, scattered both hills and lakes; a true alignment of form.
A world defined once anew, a beginning shaped by alignment of disorder; formed of laws imposed by the snaring strings behind this worldly fabric. Brought to a clockwork conduct, the new world begins to flow. Breezes travel both sky and land, sea flowing with moving tide, waves crash against the faces of cliff and bay, rays of light descend from the stretching sky.
Last to be formed, an alignment of values unlike the other, a form varied from that which sits within this world. A solitary monolith, statue of stone, strung together by the fabric of self, composed of heart and mind, thought borne of the stirrings of emotion. Initiation of oneself; the formation of life.