"You'll be our avatars," the wind laughs into your neck and you laugh back because the wind is alive. Alive and warm and silly and just a little clumsy in his eagerness.
He is broad shoulders of cumulus and strong hands of a westerly wind and you breathe in the gossamer cirrus of his breath as he kisses you and pushes you into a bed of clouds and presses his mouth against your shoulder and says-
"We'll work through you," the sun murmurs, stroking your hair and you want to sob with relief because the sun is light and shadow and an enigmatic smile and she fills the emptiness in your heart so completely you can hardly stand it.
She pets your hair and you kiss a thigh made of moonbeams and ignore the ache in your knees. Her voice hitches on your name and she leans over you and whispers into your hair-
"It won't be easy," the clock rasps, gears and teeth against your neck. He is heat and metal edges and his fingers tap out the primal heartbeat of the universe against your ribs in 3/4 time.
You lean against him and shake because he's the clockwork perfection you've wanted for your whole life. He laughs as if he knows what you're thinking and his breath and movements and heartbeat all play the same song, telling you without words that-
"But you can do it, if you remain faithful," the cosmos sings, condensed above you into a shape that cups your face when you kiss her. Knees of stardust grip your hips and hair of new galaxies falls over your shoulders and her giggles are the music of the spheres.
She holds you, anchors you in reality even as your heart threatens to soar within her space and combust into a supernova and the gravity of a thousand stars threatens to crush you into nothingness, and she leans forward and tells you-
"You'll bring them hope," the cosmos whispers.
"You'll be their heart" the clock insists.
"You'll fill the void" the sun predicts.
"You'll give them life" the wind smiles.
"Our will be done."
You wake up in your own bed, with the memory of a god's lips against your own.