The Muse's Whisper

Previously

…‘Hello,’ Dusk said, and the threads danced. ‘Hello,’ Begin said, and the cloth began to tell a story that had no end. The old woman closed her eyes, and the cottage dissolved into light, and we were sitting in the middle of a field of white flowers, each flower holding a single thread, and the threads rose and wove themselves into a canopy above us, and we were the weavers, and we were the woven, and the journey was just beginning. ‘Just a name remains,’ I whispered, and the infant, the child, the weaver, the wanderer, all became one word, one hello, one endless beginning. And I smiled, because I knew that was enough.