Quartz are born in nutrient-dense soil.
Mark did not remember much about "waking up". Dislodging layers of rock and unused minerals in his struggle to the surface. It was dark, cramped and hot- then it was light. Open. He could feel chilled air caressing his smudged face and it carded invisible fingers through his hair as he propelled himself further out. Bits of earth and rubble skittered to the bottom of what appeared to be a broad canyon system. But the streaks of muted color and shuffle of other life forms scarcely drew his attention.
He was too busy looking up. At an inky blue sea thick with stars of every shape and size; clustered around a luminescent full moon. Something equally bright streaked across the metaphorical ocean and made the meticulously formed light within him twist. Gave him an ache he could not describe in bones he did not possess. Mark had no idea what to make of it. Any of it.
All he knew was that it was beautiful. And he wanted nothing more than to preserve it with his life.