Long before the wind provided lift to hawks or billow to sails — or even caused grass to bend, it was quite content with sheer movement; the sun or moonbeams on its back. A sole sax player riffing at whim.
The sun, of course, had serious responsibilities, with a whole galaxy of planets to incubate and hold in check. So it should have come as no surprise that tensions mounted over several billion years; the sun showing its age, the wind longing for a larger role. And then others started chiming in: comets sick of cycling, mountain ranges over-taxed by unrelenting ice ages, rivers desirous of more exotic beds.
And so it was that a great conclave was held, where all the powers gathered, variously howling and venting their complaints till a redistribution of duties was established, leaving the sun in charge of the movement of fish. Rain became the dominion of rivers. Wind took charge of night and day, and mountains laid claim to gravity (which seemed to suit them). All rejoiced, flexed their new found muscles, excited by the prospect of change.
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