Pangenetor
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Motes of dust flicker idly
In the vast emptiness
That followed the great ruination.
Chains of order,
That stood firm for generations,
Were released from their decay
By the birth of the Child of Fire.
Now those infinitesimal
Specks of ideation swirl
And cluster, forming new shapes
And silhouettes that resemble yet new chains.
This is Coagula, following in the wake of Solve.
This is the very moment of creation.