Revelations inside the borders of the solar plexus
Life awakening
Still clinging to the dew beauty of dream, once more I wake up to fright, gasping at dawn, once more alone and lost. Pinned to this bed by the gothic ceilings of this caravelle, this oh, so beautiful house.
The gardens of my enchantment and of the butterflies, a country that was a stranger to me and that is now mine. I am a citizen of this community, in the more mundane sense, having sworn to the truth of wanting to stay.
I breathe and from the air that enters my body, the feeling of alone penetrates. I breathe and watch my face, open pores of nose, skin color of marzipan, a hair growing in the wart, the mouth demanding deeper and deeper air to stop this daily ache, in the awakening of my days. Of my aloness, in my body, I breathe, I feel.
On the road, maybe to my end, in this bed made of my own body. On the road I have no desire because desire does not work in this journey.
The insight to feel, to breathe,
so as to be alive, to get over this fright of life and death. To accept, in the awake and in this breath, that ageing is to know how to inhabit one’s own body. In this morning and moment I do not have the body of others as my aim, my own physical body is what composes me.
Of the bodies of others I know they compose music, sex, vibrations, love, the words of art, friendships, marriages, falling out of love, the people, relationships, all that which, in illusion, makes me corporeal.
In this instant, I do not need the bodies of others to be. I do not relate. I enter inside my own body, I recognize a borderline in this morning of mine.
My unique possibility to inhabit my own time and to age.
To have some peace.
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