Out of black, all colors rise

Out of black, all colors rise,

devouring goddess of light—

my mother tells me so,

with her long rainbow earrings

that hang down to my shoulders.

Today, I wear them, for the first time.

They are here to awaken my dreams,

as though they were luminous feathers

of a quetzal that breathes silently

among the shadows of the thick jungle of life.

Beauty shows me, dreams, and memory

the path we must walk

as we whisper the music of silence,

as we descend in awe

as we are carried

to the center of the earth

by a bat god

who guides us backwards.

We go sliding

toward the knowledge of eternal source,

toward the dark sun…

Only if we trust in lightness

do we understand that the path

is deep, yet slung high.

To reach the top,

we must travel downward.

The sky that surrounds us

is a single heart.

There, no one has died,

and everything blooms.

—Lorena Wolfman (Translation 2025)