From Where I Live I See the Backs of Stars:
This is as far in this story as I can go. I stood at the end and began to walk. I collected things and walked a crooked path to the beginning. I walked to the point right after color invented, right after the darkness, which was pregnant with possibility, faded.
It’s here that I wait. I wait for you and the maps you read in the rings of your smoke trees. I wait for you to bring your water, your flames, your dead, your weight, your guides, your aids and your tools. I wait for you to point to where you keep your chant, inside your four-chambered heart and your pulmonary veins. I listen to the habits of your hands and feet.
Do you remember? When you looked all around you, and saw how everything was dotted with pinpoints of light? They were quiet and close in front of your eyes, like you brought the stars down from the sky wherever you looked. It could have been eyes you cannot trust. Or it could have been a phenomenon. Or, it could be that when things are of the same essence, there really is no space between them. No space at all.
It could be that it is not the entire universe with all of its detailed contents, nor the ancestral seas, nor the continental plates, nor our galaxy, nor all of the undiscovered others, which are that vast. It could be that is it simply us. We are infinitely wide.