As the flower picked me, civilization was obliterated. Fires on Saturn consumed the scattered remnants of my human culture. Rootless and without my foundations, I was lifted beyond the womb where dreams emerge from storms of light and force.

Transcending the membrane of form’s warping bubble, a hand unimaginable carried me aloft, placing my torn stem into time’s own saliva. Thus nourished, my petals turned to face that invisible sun from which all identity draws its sacred inspiration.

A winged tiger with a woman’s face, the very creature of fire’s spirit piercing water’s root, sang on the edge of forever; and as torrential flows began to rip me apart, a pulsing thunder rode me like a set of living wings into and beyond the crushing gravity of the mote where universes are born.

We followed the sacred thread into love and terror’s tree, disappearing together, branching endlessly, until your perfect gaze drew us back to unity, drew us forth once more to fervent presence.