Beating Heart
The world is not machine!
Sometimes I don’t realize I’m doing what I’m doing, or feeling what I’m feeling, until I fall off to sleep, trip down a rabbit hole and reawaken to the subtle, but no less profound reality where everything speaks and everything is connected by fur, feather, feelings, all as colors begin bleeding into a beautiful, wet rainbow right before abrupt re-entry to my normal state - a hyper-alertness clinging to analytical understanding, which always fails to explain the subtext accompanying my every action, conversation, and the resultant emotions. I write this to remember the world is not machine. It’s a beating heart, breathing lungs, seeing eyes.
Published in
- The Invitation · October 7‹ Stars Are the LightFoot Rub ›