Oars dipped silent in an amethyst sea, the unmanned boat bore us to the wonder floating at its heart. A radiant mastaba, a pyramid shorn in two by brilliant light, an edifice carved from diamond, drifting atop these unnatural waters with the density of air.
We drew ever nearer to God.
The lyrical wind, a lilting chorus, gently rebuffed us even as the ship carried us forward, reminding us that our very presence was a privilege, our progress was not our own. As we approached, the totality of the wonder before us dwarfed everything that came before. Our entire lives dwindled and refracted through the divine's prism, fracturing into the diffuse rainbow of being, they became miniscule. In it we saw reflections of all the creatures we may have been, or were once upon a time. Insects on a redwood forest floor, beholding a trunk that to us appeared infinitely vast. Ancient mariners coasting through a listless ocean, who slept, and in so doing dreamt of the distant stars' guiding us, those whose true natures eluded our comprehension.
We ascended toward the light, drawn by the clarion call of our maker. Drawn by the Mother to the tempest that raged in her bosom, containing life and all its hues and death and its absolute blackness. We ascended God's crystalline stairs, approached her with reverence, hands outstretched in supplication. We raised ourselves into the light collapsing upon us, rain drops immersing us in worship. We osmosed into her embrace, our bodies obliterated by her storm, though we felt no pain and retained our selves if not our forms.
In her fullness we felt an inception. There, in her darkness, we witnessed the beginning of everything. The kaleidoscopic act of creation, an instant lasting a thousand millennia, and though we braced ourselves against it, the jolting rapture, the undeniable power beckoned us forward. And we passed from the embrace of the Mother into another, newer universe. There, once men, we became stars.