The raindrops fell upward into space, deserting existence and enveloping the sun with a weightless mist. Stepping lightly on the suspended crystals danced the glittering queen of time adorned in a silver gown. Reflecting from her gown, and falling in rays from her slender fingers, was a blinding whiteness that penetrated and absorbed the mist. She fell through the thin layer of water into a dark abyss, and ignited it by her presence. On her one hand was a scepter, on her other was a sun.
Color ran with wings on her ankles, and time opened her hands into a universe of space. The immaterial shattered, settling on the stars, and color's eyes opened in each changing sphere. Weeping with the strain her heart melted and fled from her veins, filling the sky of her presence with sad blues and light pinks. With her last breath the entity of light suspended the moment, but change consumed the steady course and set off a magical wave.
Chaos faced order, and now asked a question. The enhanced movement of life was thus begun, the unfinished answer relentlessly pursued the question, disturbing serenity with every movement. The universe swirled and fell into place, beginning the fall that should never begin. Now high, the mists slowly dissolved, exposing the hidden light. The felt of a cloud cradled a child, and the light could only burn his face. A voice raised in song lifted the day, and only the oppression of a originless thought compressed the night. An unprotected gaze looked on, holding the knit fabric of understanding in place.
Flying through the sky on great wings of light was a dove, and gentleness, unknown before compassion, tinkled like a crystal glass. The clouds receded, and settled into mountains, opening a stairway of epic gold. Lined on it's sides were great soldiers in solute, the reddened plumes of their helmets holding the seas in a basin. Their feet, set firmly apart, bore the weight of their rigid backs. At the top of the stair sat an angelic man, and in his hands he held two yellow rods, with which he played a melody on five hundred harps with strings of pure silver. With every thrust of his clever touch a new color inebriated the sky, painting a picture beyond imagination.
Rising behind the melodious harps rose a palace of golden magnificence. Adorned with white flowers, and backed by precious blue, it's spires and domes magnificently fastened to the air. Young girls, dressed in light pink gowns and crowned with roses of red and yellow, processed through every hall. Each bore in her hand a tiny spark, and in a never ending stream they stepped into the hall of pearls and rose to kiss the King, their light fingers touching his cheek.
Present yet distant the happenings of life and death took form within the halls. A mass heart beat, like the roar of a lion, penetrated the air. Walking, running, changing, living the events returned to order. Light and color lost their way, and the answer gave way to the question. The babe opened it's eyes from the arms of the cloud, and the seas flowed like rivers from the plumes of the guards. Only the moment, forever suspended, kept the palace from falling into an illusion. Time and space have set their course. Light floods matter, matter floods light, and senses unite to form reason.
This rather... enigmatic work is actually a metaphor of eternity. There is, of course, no way to describe eternity in time. By way of describing the progression of light, however, I have made an attempt to present a picture of this theory. It is, perhaps, a utopia of reason... but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.