As the evocative tones of the swansong echoed through the world, the swan danced with the horse. The wings beat as the pony pranced, mane swaying. The hair, so supple and shining, swung softly in the turbulent twists and turns of the dance of grace. It swayed in the breath of heartache. Heartache transcended time in the moments of pure elegance and grace that flowed across the floor. Sound manifested in the untainted physicality of dancer. The swan and horse became one in a transformation that would imprint itself on the memory of the ground, the air, the fabric of reality. The realm of man would forever be imprinted with the softness of skin, of hair, of swan and stallion.

Each turn, sway, leap, was separated and broken, the swansong tore each moment to shreds but all were connected, the mane graceful in its everlasting brilliance held the instants together. Though the union of grace and power was fragile, on the verge of collapse at every change of pace, every change in form, every change in position. The two flawless beings made one danced the tight rope above oblivion. The dark maw aching for the prize of luminous perfection reached to clasp horse and swan whole. The tones of brilliance cradled the stallion, saving it from the void.

The darkness contrasted the light. In a moment of clarity, one instant of crystal, everything was revealed, laid out on the universe in one instant all that was good clung to itself, hovering over evil. And impurity lost its way. Destruction ate itself, for it could never reach the light. Devouring everything, horse and swan, was an impossibility. Death collapsed with no sustenance. Disease caved without its prey. Desolation was empty for it had no meal and the swansong floated on. Over the maw, dancer leaped playing in the meadows that brought peace to the stallion. Swan and horse, together as one pranced in the field where no wrong could mar its surface.

As time wore on, as sands pouring through an hourglass the duo of perfection danced on. Lifetimes were moments and instants were eternities, two remained one and one two, nothing existed and everything lived. It was a note that played from the bosom of the swan and a symphony that sprang from the depths of its soul. The horse mane rustled each hair in unison swirling, swirling, twisting and twirling in a never ending cyclone of graceful softness. A crossroads was met by the pair of splendor; a fork with one path for one being and two paths for the two. A lake filled with purity and a meadow of growth, all the same, and nothing alike. Away from imperfection the swan and stallion sat, singing and prancing, living and loving, reveling in the beauty of it all.

But the two must part as all great things do, taking to separate paths to the same destination and of course, the opposite too. How could the couple part when for so long they were one? Time that was transcended was surpassed no longer. And the swansong that accompanied the duet of single dancer spoke the truth that had been known all along. There is an end to sorrow and it is the beginning of life. The world will shift and move as time commands and it can never be stopped, but the moments that last forever and are over before they began are what will live and live and keep living for eternity. Instant will beget instant and live forever on the fabric of the universe as the soft mane and sweet sounds of beating wings and voice clung to the stuff of life. As the faultlessness broke into its two pieces, fractured at its core, a force swung out with might so powerful that nothing, not even the maw of cruelty could battle against it. Love danced with itself, taking two to make one. And despite its parting the two halves of love would sing on.