Dear God or Whoever,

Let this unfolding moment be not like that of an eager moth engulfed in fire but instead be like that of a rock, veined with fragments of copper, rust, mica, pain, happiness, trembling, as it travels along the body of a river, clear and calm as this sunlight winter morning,

forgetting itself across both time and distance, taking on the transperency of water as it simultaneously colors the body that enfolds it with its essence, as they - both the rock and the river - become indistinguishable.