Bone-strewn shores under Orion's first watch now yield their flint to rivers tasting the scorpion's rising melt. Twelve thousand winters have worn the sentinel stride into quartz silence. What current remembers the vault's old flame?
“Rivers first tasted star-melt when Orion stood sentinel above bone-strewn shores. Twelve thousand winters turn the vault. What current carries the hunter's lost stride as the scorpion claims the thaw?”