The tingling

March 2, 2015 § Leave a comment

I wanted to cover myself with dust and I did. It was perfect.

I wanted to lay in abandon for years, my heart sitting at the door of the bedroom. I did and it was perfect.

I wanted to keep my mind in the cusp of my hands, and examine it without understanding whose mind it was. I did and it was perfect.

I wanted to swear, to judge, to be fierce, to shine, to win. I did and it was perfect.

Then I lost and I hurt and I crumbled. And it was perfect.

Until one day. I had exhausted my reservoir for tears for another ten years. I had patches on my vocal chords from so much hysterical screaming. I did not know. But I wanted to know. So I just did. I rose above and I saw. I understood and through me the whole world understood. I was transformed and transformed the world. Before my eyes I could see everything, and myself. A web of everything, flowing and eternal and perfect in immaculate sunshine. My lungs hurt from breathing such crisp air. It was neither dawn, nor dusk and the world was this painfully beautiful place. I had no urges, no wants, no desires, no goals. I was not myself. No questions, no answers , only perfectly round wholesomeness. Everything happened at once but I knew this was but a game. I felt washed over with the sunlight and was basking in this complete-ness. I did not want to cry but I was swaying from side to side, like a baby cradled in his mother’s arms.

And it was perfect.

 

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