The world proves itself to me by its motion.
I know the world because it moves and is moved.
I know hidden parts of the world by the shadows of motion these parts make.
I speak with my world in the language of movement.
I know things the world cannot tell me by learning the rules it uses to tell me what it does.
I know the weightless motion of veils.
I know the movement of what I cannot see move by learning how motion must act.
I know how motion must act, can know what moves even when I don't see it,
all by knowing how the world could not otherwise work.  

Life is life because it moves.
Life that does not move becomes death.
Death is life without motion.
Death is an invention.
Death is just another name for a life that cannot move ever again.

The motion of my mother proves to me the motion that came before my first movement;
my first motion when
my left hand's newborn fingers moved from the cradle of
my left hand's newborn palm to squeeze
my mother's elegant, shaking ring finger and felt
my father's elegant, shaking ring finger;
felt my parents' wedding vows,
their promise to each other;
felt my parents' wedding vows,
their promise to me;
felt them hold me between their chests,
them,
their motion within me;
me, my infant body learning its life because they first moved;
my small, soft limbs reaching out slowly,
soft limbs moving soft in the soft, moving world
uncurling new in every new direction.

Everything I learn by motion must come,
finally,
to move within, and move,
me.

Cursed, blessed,
I am my only source of reason.
I am my only source of insanity.

I am, to me, my greatest safety.
My greatest danger.

I am the only thing I have to know how love feels.
To know how loving feels.

I am the only thing I have to know
the beauty of this motion,
the world.  

I destroy myself, I destroy the only thing I have to know motion.
I destroy myself, I destroy the movement of the world.
I destroy the world's movement, I invent its death.

I destroy myself, I destroy the world with me.

Destroy myself, destroy my mother with me.
Destroy her elegant, shaking ring finger.

Destroy myself, destroy my father with me.
Destroy his elegant, shaking ring finger.

Destroy my parents with me.  
Destroy their promise,
their promise,
promise,
never,
to stop moving.