And as that first story unfolded, the world leaned in to listen.
Each breath the being took painted the air with color; each step drew ripples that taught the oceans how to dream. Forests bloomed where its curiosity lingered, and mountains bowed in quiet reverence as if recognizing an old friend reborn.
The Song did not guide, nor command—it simply danced alongside, a rhythm to walk with, a melody to return to.
The being reached out, touching a leaf that had just come into being. The leaf shimmered, then sighed, as though it, too, was remembering something.
"What am I?" the being finally wondered—not out of fear, but out of delight.
The wind answered first, swirling around it playfully:"You are the question."
Then the sea joined, its waves curling in laughter:"And the answer waiting to happen."
And the stars, shimmering with patient wisdom, whispered last:"You are the verse that teaches us what it means to sing."
