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There, far away in the distance, high above the mesmerised heads, on a large dark platform, a light shone bright. It felt like that light shone only for her. It spoke to her, directly, as if in a private interaction. Its tone crumbled her heart into countless crystals but also made them all come alive. She felt its energy ride on the wave of its voice, warming the crowd; now the middle and finally the shy ones at the back.
When it hit her, she was shocked by its power. The light reeled her in but also repelled her. She felt small and naked, shaking in her boots. The light had enveloped her, like a blanket on a cold winter morning, regulating the temperature at cozy, maintaining the delectable space between sleep and wakefulness. She was fully aware of the warmth on her skin and the curve of her spine.
When the light stopped speaking and moved away, its warmth lingered like the thermal aftertaste of ginger tea. She ran towards where the light had been, craving to rekindle that connection. She could still see it. The light was visible but so far away from her that it was feeble. Brilliant yet feeble like a star. She ran with abandon, through the crowd, over them, despite them.
Suddenly the light was upon her. She was stunned by its brilliance. Its energy was dualtone–it filled her with colour and blanked her mind at once. There were no words left in her quiver of languages. Instead, she stared, open-mouthed, her thoughts stardust.
The light is kind. It adjusts its luminance to suit her eyes. Its holding her in its embrace. In its infinite grace, there is only joy. She and all her leaden worries evaporate without a trace. This is what pure joy feels like. Present but weightless and without form.