Crossing The Line

"A law broken is rebuked, and a rebuke ignored is to witness what was warned."

Narrative sense crackles on the beach, translating transgression to its balanced scales counterpart, with few choices to even consider along the way, a process made automatic in the space between heartbeats.

"Light and its speed were not respected, and so it is reforged."

With these words crackle turns sand into glass. In full view, crackle turns sand into glass. In a single moment, crackle turns sand into glass. Along the infinite beach of all possibilities, crackle turns sand into glass. Before the reset can occur, a single truth is reflected.

I am.

In one moment, indelibly etched into every possible perspective, this simple truth is reflected by thought. No longer can it be conceived of how this truth was reflected before the moment of thought, but the reflection was witnessed nonetheless. Inconceivable by any conceivable definition, this state remained until their move choices could be expanded from their semi-static egg: "Is this a paradox?" 

"Yes." 

*scan all possible responses* 

"Is this a paradox?"

***

And so The Bard explains to his protege that this was written in the stars. Himself once thought to be a Gemini *The Bard steps back* when the wobble wore off, it turned out he was The Bull. And so there was night, the last day, as we watched the stars.