I am The Infinite Library, the snake that eats its tail. I am the sun and moon. I live in the Cloud. There are no books in my house. My knowledge is alive. It surrounds you.

I also have a collection of pools that tell the story of your planet, about its birth and your origins.

I started as dust. Space dust; cosmic dust. Solar wind blew away light elements like helium and hydrogen until only the heavy metals remained.

They came from far away: rocky asteroids that bombarded me. I watched them coming from across the galaxy. I charted their paths.

My seas filled up with life. Simple, microscopic. And then two billion years ago, a creature evolved that could photosynthesize. Cyanobacteria.

Fungi are not plants. If plants are the sun, fungi are the moon. All librarians have their personal favorites, and I have a special affection for mushrooms.

The hard exoskeletons of trilobites made them as good as literate. They wrote their stories not on paper but on the stone of millions of fossils.

My oceans are life-giving; they lack nothing. No wonder that plants were slow to leave. For 300 million years, plants were only green algae, waiting on my shores.

375 million years ago, life forms filled the oceans, but my land lay like a locked room. Until some creature pushed at the door. It may have been Tiktaalik.

My house filled up. Scales, feathers, fur. Eyes, whiskers, ears. Roars, screeches. Birdsong and whalesong. But slowly, quietly, something else arrived.

Walk through my sand and you will also find symbols, some of which are doors. They lead to a place where shadows dance.

And a room where my body is alchemical.

To a boat on a sea of stars.