The winged goddesses shielded their eyes from the magnificence happening before them, but even the sound of it overwhelmed them and they turned away. As each one turned, they fell to the earth in streaks of fire, pummeling the rocky surface before boring deep into the core. They melted, and the center of the earth became a ball of thick fire.
From the magnificence came stones to bury them, flung in great masses and with enormous force. For eons they burned, engraved beneath the rocks as the earth swung around the great glowing orb. Nothing was motionless. All was moving – all was locked in motion, all were bent in a graceful prison toward their new exploding mistress.
The goddesses, the first-fallen, were still alive, and mourned in their graves for endless millennia until their devastating song rose higher and burst from the stones that buried them. Gods from other orbiting masses heard them and they cried for them. Soon, no longer able to move idly in place during the harrowing song, they also turned and became great masses of liquids and fell to the earth, the first of them digging far beneath the crust. They screamed as they boiled above the sorrowful goddesses and shot back up into the crust, nearly freezing with panic as they rose.
The dark, merciful angels from the outer reaches of space heard the cries of fire and water, and they also turned. Into the earth’s gorges and new mountaintops they flew and hugged the stones as leagues of godwater poured over their wings. To this day, they hang on the cloven rocks and the imprints of their wings are visible in the waterfalls. So waterfalls were known as angels’ wings, and their thoughts turned green all around them.