You’ve never known another. You’ve never known another.
A beautiful day. Cool breeze, warm sunlight. New life. Why do you cry? You’ve done everything in your power to deserve this. Thankful, determined, empathetic, kind. You’ve done everything to deserve this. Grateful melancholy, constricted freedom, tempered bliss.
What sword is dulled by flesh?
A dream of waking. The corner of some dark room in a house I do not know. My consciousness incorporeal, unbound, lazily searching. Panic. The room swelled, pregnant with fear, a myriad birth of terror. Strange plants and fruit. Mirordered spiders deep and wide.
There I recalled: disembodiment, impenetrability, safety. My consciousness remembered the body, abandoned in the corner of some dark room in a house I do not know, sleeping softly, unaware, and unharmed. The fear that burst into being revealed the façade:
“I am not the body;” a passing delusion, an impossibility.
My consciousness rejoined (unlimited to) the body and cast the exact opposite of a shadow in every direction. An aura untouched, projected the sphere. Eternal, my core, transcendence. At the limits of my emanance, a slow fade, graduated into darkness: the spiders, the webs, and the fear...
Here in (remembrance) the darkness,
the fear had never really existed.
Here in the darkness, here and there,
are little spheres of light (never so far apart)
and spiders weaving webs.
Simply living. Natural, beautiful, and perfect.
It was not real. It was God.