The rain rose up like sheets of shredded vapor as her feet touched the first rocks of the mountain.

With her brain plugged into the sky,

electricity running through the veins of starlight,

she thought blandly of the early years of her existence.

Face upturned and glowing; her heart lept as her voice rose up in song:

 

“Patterns flow freely from my fingertips.

Through my own being,

I create what is.”