I saw her dancing on the edge of absurdity, picking up dandelion stalks that she would whimsically blow against my face as she ran away laughing like a naked girl in a Matisse painting. After 365 nights of dreaming about her, she will give me a boy named Horus. And through her eye we will see the future - and she will resurrect me within it. Free from wanting to be better, being as good as you without a point - without remorse and without fantasy. She will find me. And when she finds me, she will make me a hieroglyph with a hot knife in my flesh. Some archaeologist, a thousand years from now, will think I was God. And I will not argue. She made me that today.