2

The light and color of the raw tattoo gently expanded and contracted. Imperceptible at first, he thought it simply the byproduct of his throbbing mind. But, no, the markings moved, were alive and moved with the rhythmic regularity of a heart beat. Slow. Slow. Slow. The red and oranges and yellows and whites blurred and mixed, then separated and regained their definition. The bird seemed to slowly, gently beat it's wings with each pulse. It was alive, distinct from him.
His mouth was agape, but the mouth in the mirror gently smiled back. He raised his eyes in alarm, but the calm face in the mirror remained placid, unmoved. The eyes glimmered love and the mouth spoke:

I have called you. Hear my words.

It wasn't sound. It was noiseless, but it penetrated him, went straight to his mind. It was pure. It bypassed the filters of ears and senses. The Word made him gently shake. Each Word carried with it a wave of love. An overwhelming onslaught of tenderness and compassion that understood him completely, had known him since before there was time. As it embraced him, he could see himself, drawn in to everything that was and ever would be. Loved as a part, an essential part, of the Whole.

The bird burst forth into flame. Again it pulsed. White became whiter with each successive wave, purer and purer, whiter and whiter and whiter. With each wave of brilliance, he could feel his body melting away, absorbing the light until he was one with the purity, one with the Light. There were no words now. Images moved before him as language. Perfect in their completeness. Perfect in their meaning. Perfect in their comprehension.

Before him was a great and ancient tree. A tree of untold years of permanence. At the base, the right half of the tree grew before him, green and strong, ever growing, ever expanding, ever moving skyward. Each bud sprouted forth and turned into leaves. Each branch multiplied and multiplied again without end.
At the base, the left half of the tree was dark and charred and dying. The leaves were brown and devoid of nutrients. They fell, rained continuously on the ground, each fallen leaf covering the resting place of the leaf that had fallen before it. Each leaf quickly decomposed and absorbed into the earth like a fresh snow on sunlit ground.
As he looked upward the tree twisted around itself chaotically; ever growing, ever dying.
The voice filled him again and commanded him:

Climb.