In the night, all of the trees were burning with silver fires. Inside the fires there were mouths and eyes. The mouths spoke the secret names of the sky, the oceans, the mountains, and the places. The eyes saw the sacred dreams of the insects, the fishes, the animals. My heart left my body and began to hide in different fires. A blue fire. A green fire. The red fire of losing my dream. The golden fire of finding a dragon’s tooth. I didn’t need my body anymore. I was living from fire to fire, a ghost-flow leaping from flame to flame. The Sun and I ignited dreams, and these dreams became eggs, and the eggs became birds in which we flew, together. The dead rode my whisper like a river whose mercurial transits promoted them to the sky. To the future. To the secret immersion in the storm at the root of the door.