"The mother's heart is the child's playground."

i have one story to tell  to me again and maybe again, i caught myself dreaming the boundary between the energetic darkness and the travelling light. this vital story  when the mornings were pure the nights full of unknown beings, the rib cage the only space i knew rippled by the vital waves, by dread, incomprehensible vibrations, the beat of my heart unprotected, the horizon had not yet been invented, nor the sisterhood and brotherhood.  pain was an incessant falling into the void, the desire infinite, my body shattered into vital fragments, a misattuned orchestra of delight and terror (body-mind-reality continuum forever broken). at the crossroad of deadness and aliveness i was stamped with fire and water, i was an imaginary being without limits. even now i use a strange language and visions of the infinite haunt me, i taste life when i confuse myself with you and her and him and them, so that death is not incomprehensible. i was once a pool of vibrant nothingness, this terrible pain of life crushing itself inside the flesh, of reality and imagination, longing and despair annihilating each other.
my body carries patiently the invisible tattoos of vibrant scars, she waits for me to learn how to love the simplicity and the serene fullness of life. all i need is more words, new vessels for the infinite desire, more "i" in this i from the imperfect, impermanent and incomplete.