The funnel through which she passed was unusually spacious,
hazy green, purple at times.
The body was not a burden. There was no weight.
Only consciousness merged and separated with stardust.
It was one, for one and only time. Or maybe for the umpteenth time,
because everything was so familiar, the belonging did not surprise her
nor decay into worlds. And the worlds dissolved and created,
poured and dissolved. The heavenly light, whose particle she was,
was beating to the rhythm of her pulse, and if she was breathing,
it would have been the rhythm of her expiration.
And if she sighed? Everything would sigh with her.
And if she laughed?
The roar of the Universe would be heard.