Symphony Of The Spheres
An endless dance, once begun, must proceed throughout eternity. It is the turning of the gears, it is the winding of the clocks, it is the spheres in the void and the ants upon them. Each great piece a footstep in the choreography. The ants scatter and weave, bending to the will of the eternal sonata. It rings out through the void and calls them home, calls them from their holes. Upon silvery chariots they will ride to the gala, prepared naught for what is to greet them. The ants meet the boot, the almighty orchestrator.
The tempo increases and the ants are thrust upon newer soil, they scatter again and weave a new home. Further and further they go, until all has been touched, until every partner has a match. The dance continues, it coalesces and propagates throughout time. The patrons grow closer, the spheres meet one another, and the lights go out. Silence, for but a moment, before the music returns in full. The almighty orchestrator swings his arm about and the endless dance begins again.
17 June 2013