A new world revives itself. First, the earth sees the flare. WE don't know what it is.

Energy courses throughout the veins of the flare into space. It leaves behind millions of chromatic dust particles, an engine for what we never knew and never will. Upon this dark night, I gathered with my friends to watch the bi-yearly phenomenon. For every world and timeline that passes on, its ashes stay floating as space junk, and if it's lucky, it might get revived into the same world and timeline. Just where it left off. What looks like fire explodes into the lapis sky -- the quick burst of light from what was just before a dark, purplish missile, catches everyone off guard. It gets em every time.

Just afterwards, we see it become lightning. Most of the time, you see lightning as just a bolt quickly striking down to the ground. Now, you see it above your roof. A quick snap and the sky seems torn in two, allowing a bright, bright green to shine through. Almost like tree leaves.

Next, the final phase. The stars all gather together to seal together the canyon. They twinkle brightly, gradually getting brighter and brighter. I could swear it was 10 in the morning. Still staring, transfixed, it may have been less painful through a window or something of the sort. If you're just as hypnotized as me, you'll see their sparkling light begin to die down as they transfer their brightness and energy to constellation patterns around them, as if an act of generosity. You can feel the constellations alive for once.

Once that worlddust is reclaimed, so become the beasts of the night.