Alone in the night’s deepest blackness, I heard a rustling begin amongst the trees and flowers as a gentle rain began to fall. The droplets struck the earth, and where they landed, sparks rose in patterns that taught me ancient words, which I followed as they became the the prayers of ancestors.

A cloud of moths emerged from restful hiding, following the lights as they danced along the earth. My soul left my body, and rode the moths into a kind of distance I never knew existed. There, we met a storm-person. Its mouth produced a music that rejuvenated us. It was from the sky. From a stone in the deep sky.

When it left, there was thunder, and the thunder was a name I must never reveal. The wings of the moths are my body now. The other one is gone. Alone. In the deepest blackness of the night.