Order in life is important, from the changing of fresh spring grass to the frigid unforgiving snow, from the changing of migratory routes used by birds and to the blooming of rose hip in the summer sun to the birth of crisp apples in windy autumn.

Order must be followed for that is the way life had willed it.

Order that escapes from the very lips of Gods, from mere mortal men and to the very existence of beings that exist merely due to some twisted phenomena.

Life and death, entwined in an intricate dance that only two lovers might understand, solely functioning on encoded order.

Why does the young hatchling frantically beat its wings, hoping to desperately catch the faint trace of wind in its undeveloped state? Why does its soul know how to soar before it is even hatched and present in the world?

Not even the sun and moon are spared from this tyrannical grip, slaves to their master's bidding as they rise and descent at their master's command.

For righteous Order will clench and hold all in its grasp, heaven and hell forbid something struggles free.