The block of hard, black obsidian stood at the edge of a towering cliff. It stared into the depthless black of the sky and thought, There are no others like me. There is nothing special or amazing about me. I am approaching my fiftieth millennia. There is no hope of any future for me. Why don't I just pitch myself over the edge and be done with it? Just as it was about to edge itself over the cliff and fall into the molten lava below, something caught its attention. It was a red cloud. The red cloud glowed and seemed to swell in size. The obsidian pulled itself back from the edge of the cliff only slightly. It watched the cloud for a time. It could not tell whether or not the cloud was coming closer or swelling in size because it had nothing to compare it to. Suddenly, the cloud stopped swelling/moving.

The cloud had stopped moving. It had not changed size. It did not have that power. It studied the block of obsidian. Was it worth the effort? The cloud didn't know. It drained itself of color to think.

Seeing the cloud disappear, the obsidian decided it was time. It moved itself the last quarter of an inch that put it over the edge. It plummeted toward the boiling sea of lava.

Release, the rock thought. Sweet release. Loneliness will end. The pain of wanting to be what I never can will be finished. Come to me, death -

Seeing the obsidian falling, the cloud decided it was worth the effort. It moved itself at top speed after the chunk of black rock.

- my only hope, my only companion. It is time. The bottom of the obsidian hit the lava. The rock sank deep, felt searing pain, then bobbed to the surface.

The cloud saw the rock splash into the lava. As it saw the rock sink, it accelerated, maybe there was still time. Reaching the surface of the boiling sea of liquid heat, the scarlet cloud stopped, watched and hoped for the rock to resurface.

The rock was in pain. It felt pieces of itself soften then disappear. Even though it knew death was the only exit, it held onto life tenaciously.

When the block of black rock resurfaced, the cloud shot toward it. As the cloud touched the edge of the lava-borne rock, something happened so grand and beautiful that it could make the coldest soul weep. The sky went from deepest black to a collage of all the colors known to both man and gods. The colors melted and mixed with one another, creating new, never-before-seen hues. Below, at the surface of the ocean of melted rock, there was a dual explosion. The block of obsidian burst into an innumerable amount of tiny fragments. The cloud swirled like a tornado, gaining more and more speed till it flew apart into a billion tiny bubbles. The fragments met with the bubbles and melted into them while the bubbles melted into the bits of rock. The tiny combinations of cloud and rock began to gravitate toward each other. They gathered into two bands, interlocking at their closest point. The mixtures slowly stopped moving. They joined with one another, hardening into the double-band shape. The shape rose into the rainbowed sky and disappeared. 1