By Nicholas Bruce
A green and white bolt of pure energy streams down from nowhere, piercing the suffocating blackness that threatened to stay.
There is now a shimmering quality to the room, and he has no idea where he is or what he was just doing.
He sifts through the fog of amnesia, inserting his spreadeagled form on the floor, the one light yet to fuse overhead, and slowly it comes back.
His paranoia fades as sure as his calm mind stills, and he realises the depths to which he journeyed to plant the seed.
And in the abyss it grows, branching out a new light of awareness and a new trail to actualise, one that leads away from his stuckness.
The warpaint-red softens, water permeating hardened earth, and new light falls reassuringly through the space like an ice-green sunset, bringing to life wizened dreams and ancestral presence.
The buried promises unearthed, he wonders at the journey ahead, putting to rest what came before, and gets to his feet on shaky legs.
Ka hum lay nawo na, ancestors nudge the way back.