night

I split my vision with a line of smoke. Started with insecurity and painted backward through my veins, a history I'd like to color someday. I was alone when I turned to the sky. A star played through the clouds and gave me wonder:

Where's your identity?

Don't you mean "who?"

Aye, no. You're much beyond who. When was the last time you breathed?

I...I don't keep track, I guess.

You should, don't you think?

I was blank. I watched darkness puddle sideways in the night and carried myself a little higher-- chin still tucked under my head. I was nowhere, yet. A stream of idiot dreams and unconscious busyness. I thought of the morning I'd lost myself, how I'd gain again tomorrow, and how now it was everything-- I had to think to keep breathing.

Forgetting the star, I was finished for wake. Inside there were sleep and misery and inaudible moans. I was out of clock, but the gleam, it kept on:

Shoulder it or shrug it off, you've got to get somewhere.

And where is that?

It's beyond the levels. It's occurrence in the light. You're a mess at the moment. You must get where you're going and stop the stalls.

Fine.

When was the last time you dreamed?

To memory? ...I can't think.

Beg for it, then. And see time as a palette. You'll not remember yourself without work.

I am strong.

So be it.

At this, I saw the others waving their glow. The clouds apart, I was sparked by deities at my back. They were for me. Every one. And I had someplace to find.