Time passes in shades of light and dark, in the warm kiss of the Mother and the cool touch of the Father, in the never-ending cycle of day and night. I'm leaves and stems. I'm rose buds blooming in spring and crimson petals falling in autumn. I'm vines creeping toward the sun and roots sinking in the dirt.

I see nothing.

I hear nothing.

I taste nothing.

I smell nothing.

My mind hovers at the edge of awareness, not quite working, but not quite gone. Sometimes, when a finger skims the edges of my blossoms or a drop of blood is drawn by my thorns, memories swirl in the depths of the abyss, just bright enough to show me a flash of colors before they're gone. At first, it's a boy. I can't see him clearly. I can’t quite remember him. For some reason, he makes me think of dark caverns and bright stars, of searing touches and secret nights, of the pulse I used to have and how the feel of his lips made it race. Then for a long time, there's nothing. No sparks. No moments of recollection. No embraces. Until a girl lies among my leaves, her touch eliciting the wildness of storms, the tickle of cherished laughter, the warm embrace of love.

Hold on, she seems to whisper. I'm coming. I'll save you.

Sometimes, in the endless fathoms of my lonely soul, there are other voices too. One high and warm, one low and cool. I don't hear what they say, but their presence soothes me, makes me feel less forgotten, less alone.

They have plans for me, I know.

They believe in me.

They trust me.

They hope that when the time comes for me to emerge from this infinite slumber, I'll live up to the challenges they've set. I'll see the world they wish for brought to life.

In the meantime, I float.

Weightless.

Thoughtless.

Limitless.

Trapped in the in-between.