You Strong Healthy Folks

 

You strong healthy folks had a soft spot on top of your skull when you were babies. But it closed up and sealed you in. Now you have to rattle around in your body, safe from the whirling night, safe from the whisper of infinite spaces that invite you to dissolve. But in some of us weaker folks, that portal didn't quite close. As we breathe in, a broken rosary of crystal planets clatters down our vertebrae into the goblet of our emptiness, which shatters into causeless laughter. As we breathe out, this silken thread of sap that runs up our spine gets spooled back into the swirling blackness at the center of the galaxy, where we are tethered to the void. The gravity of Nothing reels us in and drags our seeds through stems of fire like upside-down flowers. Yes, it's trendy to say that you are fully embodied, but we who have no choice are only half on earth. The rest is out there, where we watch ourselves sleep, as we breathe upon this flesh an uncreated light. After all, our bodies are edible petals, fallen offerings, yet they are very beautiful in their impermanence, are they not? While we have them, we love to dive into the watery loam, down to the bulb of the famished heart. And we know who we really are, not by thinking, but by the fragrance.