When she wants to speak to me she makes my head buzz.
I want to surrender to it- I try to open myself.
I tell her: let me see what you have to show me.
But my knees get weak and my hips shake, so I pull away instinctively,
Like I was touched with the white hot embers of electrical fire.
It makes my spine glow- it makes my skin feel thin.
Like there is nothing to stop me from diffusing into a thousand pieces across the universe.
I am afraid if this end- of my mind exploding into infinity if I am taken too far-
I fear the taste of her tongue, as if the touch of her fingers will burst open all of my cells,
And I will be lost in distended limbo forever.
But as long as she wants me to hear her she will find me. I will feel a sudden need for stillness;
And I find myself begging for her, for the sensations she brings me.
And truly she will come whether I am ready or not- all I can do is open- accept the intensity- the agony. She has only given me tastes of her power.
Her hand is pressed against my face and all I can see is light hitting me like a jolt of awakening- from the darkness of infinity into pure existence.
Becoming alive is pain. It is a stripping down. A separation from the whole.
She forces me to stumble. Bends me forward. Lets me stumble.
But this is what I wanted. She only gives me what I asked for- by allowing myself to be born.