I turn my head upwards and see the moon for the first time. I am the first person to see her. I'm the first person to see the moon. And then my body rips apart. I'm a volcano exploding. My skin tears open. My blood shoots up, expands. I feel the heat of what's inside me release and I scream. Then I'm running. I'm running and listening to my breath. I'm running with my breath through the warm night. I'm pushing it past me like I can push away time, like my body is time it is the night.

And I can see EVERYTHING. I can see every little creature. Every teeny weeny little insect scuffling around in the earth, I can see it. Every little particle of dust that I've disturbed with my feet, blown up with my breath, I can see it. And I can hear it smell it taste it, touch it with all my parts. My liver my kidneys my spleen, my heart. Underneath the sound of my beating heart is the whole big constant blast of life, and I'm so happy. I'm so happy because I have become what I truly am, what I was always meant to be.