What Is Gnosticism?

[R. Fiero]

"It's OK, rilly. Come on, come in. I don't care. Take me 
anyplace you want." But suspecting already that he was no 
longer available, that the midnight summoning would go safely 
unanswered, even if she couldn't let go. The small meadow 
shimmered in the starlight, and her promises grew more 
extravagant as she drifted into the lucid thin layer of waking 
dreaming, her flirting more obvious — then she'd wake, alert to 
some step in the woods, some brief bloom of light in the sky, 
back and forth for a while between Brock fantasies and the 
silent darkened silver images all around her, before settling 
down into sleep, sleeping then unvisited till around dawn, with 
fog still in the hollows, deer and cows grazing together in the 
meadow, sun blinding in the cobwebs on the wet grass, a redtail 
hawk in an updraft soaring above the ridgeline, Sunday morning 
about to unfold, when Prairie woke to a warm and persistent 
tongue all over her face. It was Desmond, none other, the spit 
and image of his grandmother Chloe, roughened by the miles, 
face full of blue-jay feathers, smiling out of his eyes, 
wagging his tail, thinking he must be home.