The Making from Issue 3
The moon hovered above the horizon like a luminescent ceramic sphere. Three of us sat in a small forest clearing around a lamp.
We had come, in our robes and hoods, searching for the Divine Presence.
Uttering our chants, we stared transfixed at the lamp invoking Him.
Soon smoke curled up from the lamp’s wick, like the grey fingers of the old monks. Immediately a bright light appeared, then a flickering flame.
None of us were fearful as the flame rose from the lamp. It settled on my arm without burning my flesh. After the flame lingered on my arm — for moments — it ascended slowly.
I opened my mouth, stuck out my tongue, and begged to have the illumination enter me.