Atom by atom, you pull yourself together. It’s slow going. Atoms are so small and jumpy. And you’re dream-sick. The Spirit Fox tricked you, took your breath, your spirit, and left you vast and empty.
Time reaches you like thunder, long after the lightning flash moment has passed. Slowly, clumsily, you fit together the jigsaw pieces of you.
Radiant beings wiggle-waggle around you like bee dances. These are the engendering spirits. Or are they your dream-sickness? They taught Earth how to stitch DNA, weaving by feel plants and animals.
They help weave you by feel, chill and electrical. With strength and suppleness, they fit you back into this reckless moment, into the irreplaceable now of difficult longing.
Or do they?
Or do they?
In sick dreaming, you are an emanation of death. You ray forth from nothing. What an erotic experience! Self and void!
Demonic desire strums dark power from the luckless event of your broken life. You grope like a drunken lover, feeling to be felt. Slowly, clumsily, in your fetal enchantment, you fit together the hot pieces of you.
You are numb on the bone when you can finally stand. Wild crags surround you. Gray scree glints with diamond ice in the star heat of the faint sun. And a crystal moon hangs frozen in the day sky.
Upon that deep blue, a winged shadow turns and turns. The Omen Bird that stole your breath has returned! She descends in a flare of feathers, gliding by so close you feel the cold air ring. And you cower!
“Relax, silly. I got fed up with a bird’s life.” She alights before you, heraldic plumage burnished black and iridescent gold. “I much prefer being the predator. It's much more fun to know that what bleeds, I will bleed.”
“You almost killed me!”
“Oh, I thought I had. But look at you! Half a ghost and a flurry of life dust! You’ve had help, haven’t you? You must be doing something big. So, you’d best have your breath back.”
A blurred flap of her wings snaps her again into a Spirit Fox. And the gust drives your breath, your spirit, into the dreaming depths of you.