Once, like Narcissus, I would sit upon its shores, contemplating the limits of human potential and the intricacies of our origins. Each bow revealed a reflection transforming into butterflies upon the water.
In the realms beyond human comprehension, where the chaos of origin defies understanding, butterflies in the water perform a dance, heralding the genesis of life and its journey from there to mine. Life, omnipresent and diverse, adapts and persists. It is said that even a butterfly's flap can birth a storm, and tears can unleash torrents. Ideas burgeon into change, thoughts manifest into reality.
Rage echoes within me—I am the wind, elusive and untraceable. I shall blow, summoning butterflies from the altar of her liquid realm. The friction of wind propels the momentum of water. The untamed spirit beneath the water will rise, lifting her to the celestial guardians of rain and lightning; stars will dangle from her locks, bleeding hues of light. On the wings of her celestial surge, the cosmos will hover for eternity. She shall embody the very essence and fury of the wind.
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