The weave did spin.
Onward and present and past.
It spun its patterns across the celestial canvas.
It's patterns vast beyond all comparisons.
So similar, So different, in so many places…
Grander here, then grander there…
Inferior here, then inferior there…
The pattern continued, an endless loop…
Growing greater, then an inferior growth, with each cycle anew…
Certainly, the pattern was the same…
Then the fifth age came and there was a breach in its weaves.
Certainly, the breach was all a part of the pattern…
In the pattern there was no time…
No onward, no present, no past…
Indeed, there was only the pattern.
And so, the weave did churn again, changed but unchanged…
