At first, there was only darkness—darkness like the one I saw every time I died. From that darkness ignited a spark, bright and warm, like the first breath of life in a cold, cold world. This brilliant spark expanded, multiplying into dozens, hundreds, thousands—with each spark exploding brilliantly, blossoming into yellow flowers that spread out across a dark canvas, giving birth to the stars that wheeled over something that should've been impossible within the still-beating darkness—life…
There was no patch of dirt to grow on, no sky to nourish and give succor, and yet, within the unfathomable depths of darkness surrounded by a wheel of stars—each one twinkling brightly as if in a show of excitement—a single seed of life gave birth to a sapling of ash. It was a single stem rising ever higher while its three roots, thick and gnarly, spread downward onto three sources of water that sprang to life along with the sapling.
In my mind's eye, I recalled their names.
