From eternal suspension in the void - without form, without voice - I heard the sound.
The same sound I heard before the birth of the universe, the click of heels approaching, and a voice that cut through the morning air like fine silk.
"My name is Mary Noel."
I was then granted eyes to see - as I opened them, first I saw light: the light of her pale hair that radiated warmth.
I was given a flesh vessel, a heart, a pulse, veins - blood ran through them from the core of myself to the ends of my newfound body.
Now I could see.
And there she stood - Mary Noel, in front of the class, smiling, beaming, welcoming.
I remember - I remember in words - that her eyes were ocean-gray, reflecting the piercing blue of the sky that housed the land we walked on.
The morning sunshine flooded the room. Light filled where there once was void, breathing.
I heard a whale's song, the rhythmic caw of a crow.
I looked around, trying to take it all in - the life that I was born into.
I was in a classroom, populated by animals called humans, a funny species that craves pain as much as it fears it.
Mary, the beautiful one - the light, the sorrow, my joy and death - walked over to the empty seat at the other end of the classroom.
She was far - too far.
Unreachable.
But with her grace I was saved.