The early hours of dawn. Two warring parties. The Sun and its hues. The Moon and its darkness.
Night fought to extend its hold, whilst the Day fought to curtail its hold. The sky became a battleground: a bone of contention between the sworn enemies.
One was a harbinger of light, other of shadows. One enticed slumber, other toil. One sought for to expose, other embraced to hide.
The battle begun with a sneak attack: a purple streak from the Sun slowly crept over Night’s visage, botching its void with color. Night ambushed, taken by surprise, stood its ground and purple’s progress was halted. But, then – what master has only one card up his sleeve?
Whilst Night tried to stave off purple’s ambush – streaks of yellow and orange surrounded it and isolated the Moon from its vassals: the Stars.
It was not long before Night was completely beleaguered: its defeat absolute.
And so somewhere, below amid the mortals, a rooster clambered on a roof and crowed.
A lament, maybe. A war cry of triumph, maybe.