Within the overlayed worlds, in which we were unknown travelers, there stood an opal obelisk wrapped in glittering snow. A vision graced us with her story; a goddess who wept white flowers that sprouted dogwoods at our feet. Her story was as layered as our world, all chronology was twisted and lost, images slid along each other like oil and water. I found many visions of Our Selves moving through and with one another. We traveled dark roads, in vehicles, on horseback or on foot. A flutter of memories rushed through cool winds that carried an array of fragrances that found niches in my brain. There was a ship, sinking or frozen, suspended in blues and black. This was the image that hung above us as we stared up into the sky. A jolt hit, and we flowed backwards through the experiences, meeting the weeping goddess once again, as the opal obelisk.
She has been here more. The tear-filled eyes, her form wrapped in cool hues, her messages floating like driftwood through my skull.