I pressed my back against the wall in an attempt to draw no attention to myself, hardly daring to breathe. The room was breathtakingly beautiful and huge and yet nothing seemed very far away. I could see perfectly everything happening within the confines of the walls, every detail, as if my vision had been sharpened until it had no limitations.
A messenger entered the room, his powerful roughness in stark contrast to the elegance of the servant that approached him holding a large golden bowl. Each faced the other with great deference and respect. Although they spoke no words, they seemed to communicate perfectly. The messenger pulled a leather pouch from his belt and loosened the drawstring. He shook the contents into the bowl offered by the servant.
I watched as golden brown nuggets tumbled to the bottom of the bowl and immediately began to smoke. The delicate tendrils of vapor lifted and dispersed throughout the room. I breathed in deeply.
I closed my eyes and scenes began to dance before me.
A woman sitting on a dirt floor, singing and rocking a painfully thin child whose skin was a different color from hers.
A man blinking back tears as he shoved a small piece of paper into The Wall.
A sea of dark-haired people with dark almond-shaped eyes gathering secretly.
A young man standing before a classroom of jaded and disinterested children.
An elderly woman tenderly touching the faces in the photographs on mantle, her lips barely moving.
I opened my eyes to find that the light in the room had changed. It sparkled with a brilliance that seemed alive and moving, although for that matter there was no part of the room that was darkened or shadowed. The servant took the bowl to the center of the room and placed it on a table with several other bowls, and as he did so the light wrapped itself around the table as if to embrace it. The servant, as well as all the other servants in the room, fell facedown to the ground and trembled with awe and reverence.
As did I.