Words shimmered in gold and indigo and amaranth, they had a Form and a Purpose. The words were few but they were enough, for the whole world understood them and yielded to their will.
The words were spoken and written at the same time, etched in stone and drowned at seas, tattooed across souls and on the irises.
The words were few and the words were plenty, and when the dawn came, bright and orange and fresh, every living and existing thing was wrapped in a coat of words.

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