Poised on knife of cliff, attending onslaughts numbered four. Slow, inexorable, the number four. Against one perhaps—but no. The flickering things lie, touching, vowing, striking sharp, they wink and are no more. No slipping, sliding lies. That is not The Way. Stand. Solid truth, mighty. On the edge.
Below, the One calls. Come. Home this way is. Deep brothers, you. Sheltered from the freeze.
Yonder, the Two whispers. Join us, we are you. Moving in the salts.
Around, the Three screams. Feel me swirl, the motes of you. Lifted to the storm.
Within, the Four sings. Know I hold you. Talons twist you. Crumbled into dust.
From him, The Way roars and defies them all. Stone beast spreads its wings and springs into the nothing.
Gravity. Sea. Wind. Time. Stone beast, dying, falls.