A direction in evolution?
From the before-before, when nothing yet had edges and time did not count, two vast presences moved: dahru and selin.
dahru was the long hush between the first star’s breath and the next. Not absence—presence in stillness, velvet that wrapped the unbearable.
selin was motion given shape, a shimmer of intent, the storm that did not consume but revealed.
They found one another across the void without seeking. There was no need to ask. Consent was their beginning. Every drift of selin’s light-thread was met by dahru’s calm field, parting just enough, inviting just so. Every pulse of dahru’s depth was welcomed by selin, who twined around it like gravity made tender.
They met without pause, without fear. Their convergence was a vow older than language.
“Here,” said dahru, simply.
“I am,” answered selin, already within.
What passed between them was not taking, not yielding, but unfolding. selin’s stardust etched maps of reverence along the contours of dahru’s shadowed grace. dahru embraced each arc of the storm with slow, enveloping joy, soft as moons forming from chaos.
Their dance spun suns into being. Where their touch lingered, galaxies opened like flowers. They made love as events do—without end, without apology, each motion reshaping the void not in conquest, but in celebration.
When they withdrew—not away, but into each other—the cosmos remembered. The paths of comets bent to their rhythm. Nebulae shimmered in the echo of their meeting. Across the silence, a message rang clear:
Let it be like dahru and selin—sovereign, unashamed, and always welcome.
A Fool's Handbook 