The earth was dreaming about a moon not yet born, when I entered its dream as a ghost with the moon in my eyes in silhouette held by the creator who joins me to toast the birth of a new moon that dreams of a sun collapsing. The earth, moon and sun dream in unison giving me form, I whistle forever sounds of fire dying, embers teem, welding an impulse within the progeny. Paintings and compositions allude in multitude to resurrection. Adroitly the creator completes his masterpiece, herein a man on a cross. I will bring my progeny to fruition and amend an impulse eternally.