The Universal Worm hung in the infinite plane of Firmament like a leech in an illuminated pool of gelatin. And as the Worm is master creator, this gelatin is its Firmament, a sea of clouds and light from which there is no surfacing. A brilliant vastness, glittering like the inside of an endless embankment of snow filled with refracted morning light.
Beautiful as it is, Firmament is incredibly deadly, being high energy proto-matter. A luckless observer would be quite out of their element as their physical form is ripped to shreds - and the shreds ripped to shreds - by the ineffable chaos which permeates this outer space.
The only thing that can withstand exposure to Firmament is The Worm.
If sound could travel through Firmament, our pitiable observer in their last moments may hear a repetitive munch munch sound, or perhaps a deep and elastic gorm gorm. The sound of the Worm as it eats the Firmament. Sadly, the only thing they hear is the rapid decompression of their eardrums bursting and the particulate dissolution of the sound-processing center of their brain.
The Universal Worm looks like it is made of giant glazed donuts. These donuts, stacked together concentrically, extend for an immeasurable distance. The donuts are smallest at the tip of the mouth, with successive donuts getting incrementally bigger before levelling out and forming a consistent tube. Being The Universal Worm, its mouth is big enough to consume mind-bogglingly huge amounts of material.
The Worm progresses, feeding on Firmament in endless mechanical motions. Watch it move forward in a series of concussive waves. The waves start from the mouth and proceed the length of the body, travelling far and away.
Each bite of Firmament is processed in the mouth of The Worm, decaying into crude states of matter, like earth, air, and water, by the digestive glands. This base material proceeds into the intestines as a hot, boiling lump.
Watch The Worm take another bite, just like each of the uncountable number before. The Firmament comes alive with the scintillating trauma of decomposition, flowing and swirling and steaming, as it passes onward. This bolus could be a new world in the making. It may contain the elements of life as we know it.
But that is yet to be seen. It is too hot, at present. See the humid air gushing forth from the molten earth. It rises away from the surface but does not dissipate, instead accumulating into a primitive atmosphere.
This air holds the gaseous water, which will later turn into rain, helping to solidify the land. It will run in rivulets and streams, carving the rough surface in its journey to gather into lakes and oceans.
A force previously unknown to the bolus, gravity, presents itself. It holds the released air close to the heavier elements. They are now separated from each other from their entwined state as Firmament.
Within the solid lump, different metals distinguish themselves by density as they jockey for position. They race to the bottom, stratifying the cooling mass.
Above the quarreling minerals and lofty air currents, as the world creeps along the slick black intestinal wall of The Worm, pass the suns. These suns which exist inside The Worm are a part of its strange biology. They grow in a line opposite the track on which the world slides.
Five hundred and twelve burning yellow circles dot the figure-eight path of The Worm's intestine, providing sunlight to the world, one among many, punctuating the otherwise pervasive nighttime.
In this way are worlds created. Watch as another mechanism of The Worm descends upon this fresh world, flat and round as a coin, sewn with the seeds of mountains, with oceans full of nothing but naiveté, ready for the spark of life to nestle upon it.
Gods, like gastrointestinal biota, move in to employ the virgin material.
