Beauty Crowds Me Till I Die

Written for a group prompt of Emily Dickinson's line "Beauty crowds me till I die"

Beauty crowds me till I die.  
I feel cold; numb.
Like awakening from a dream, reality assaults my senses.  
I now realize I was destroying the world.
The power was all consuming, burning my consciousness.
What am I now?
Am I breathing?  Is my heart beating?  Am I still human?
Now I must die, but is it even possible?
No prophet knew the answer.  
My story is unfathomable.
Now I face the River of Dreams.  
I see them, staring at me, through me.  
The spirits, their eyes bright with determination.
They are the final stand, the rest had failed.
I see her there; sadness tracing the subtle furrow of her brow.
I have no memories of her face, but I know it instantly, like my own reflection.
The river parts and she walks towards me, never looking away.
Behind her, the rest follow.
She embraces me, whatever physical part of me is left.
I feel her warmth seep through my dark energy.
It intensifies as the others gather around.
Understanding seeps into me
I am only a child of fate, its winding ways carving through our existence
She whispers to me words of comfort
I breathe in deeply.
It is my last breath.
It is beautiful how her love crowds me as I die.