Epiphany

I closed my eyes and it was pitch dark. I squeezed them tight and before me colors danced and melded like lovers do.

I was not alone in my colorful darkness. I could feel someone, a woman. I knew she was beautiful. She smelled like sorrow.

The woman who stood before me was not young. She was as old as the sea and the moons and the gods.

I spoke to her, and my words came out dark and lyrical and foreign, for this was not my language.

I said, "What is the way?"

She leaned to me. As lovers did, as the dancing colors did, closer to me. Her cool hands were on my heart spot.

She spoke. There was the lilting tone of a smile. Her words came out dark and lyrical and foreign.

She said to me, so quietly I thought she meant it only for herself. She said, "It is you. It has always been you."

I shut my eyes still tighter. There were no dancing, living colors this time.

       I was falling.

                     I fell.