He stretched and he was.
Stretched his obsidian wings.
Beneath him, hanging mute, the sun was blotted out.
And the skies fell in and the sands burst into shards of glass.
And lightning and fire fell from his mouth.
And planets were consumed and stars extinguished.
Dark flew and the void fled before him.
The abyss opened, a ripping cracking tear across the real,
Dark swooped and sucked and the inky-black was gone,
Consumed, condemned without reprieve.
It was now the time of the milky light, the void-gone,
Dark furled his great wings in the proto-age,
And Dark slept.
He would wake again.