Vav

Odie O'Dool hath been a fool, soaked in drool he dreamt of jewels

And in that dream, he saw a flame, that called his soul and spoke his name

And through the woods he climbed a ridge, and found a shack turned lightning bridge

And through the door — the floor was gone — a wildfire lake from dusk to dawn

And in its center, coiled and wide, a rift had torn both time and tide

And from the breach a whisper stirred, a secret never dreamt nor heard

He dove into the pyre's bloom, and bloomed within that burning room

And in the heat, the sky bent low — the storm collapsed in molten snow

And from the clouds, a spiral grew, a thread of green, of gold, of blue

It reached to him, and he to it, and from his chest the vine was lit

It wound around his outstretched frame, and branded him with Heaven's Name

And in the quake, the storm machine — began to churn the in-between

Its gears of ice, and lungs of steam, were powered by the rifted seam

But Odie saw what must be done — the vine must stretch to touch the sun

He rose through rain, and ash, and sleet, with thunder braided round his feet

He passed through realms both high and low — and bore the thread the worlds would sew

He reached the breach, and held it still — a needle through creation's will

And lightning roared, and silence fell — the rift was now a living well

The gears gave way, the storm unwound — the world released its tensing sound

And at the peak where clouds once swirled, a vine divine now split the world

And Odie hung between the two, the 'and' of all that could be true

Beyond the sun, shone a supernal Ohr, the likes of which, Odie'd never felt before.