The ripples of space split in half
and around her, fanning out
in a heavy blanket of rotating planets,
stars, and galaxies.
She raised her hand,
celestial beings slipping through her fingers
like sand, letting them drip millions
and trillions of miles in all directions,
in the form of ink.
A blur of bright lights ring around her,
shining on her eyes of zero pupils
but 100 colors.
Her white skin pulsed against space,
illuminating everything around her.
Was she significant? we don’t know,
but spilling out of her was the life of many forms.
She opened her palm,
triggering a ray of red to morph
into a sphere dripping
like flaming magma,
and with the squeeze of her palm,
darkness soon resonating
the same color of the ray,
splatting all universal juice and everything.
Isla Walker is a young writer from Orange County, California. Even though in her town, nothing exciting goes on, she writes as an escape from the boredom. She currently attends Orang Country School of the Arts.
Editor: Samiksha Ransom (@samiksha_ransom)
Read: This Week's Publication