Longing is the language of desire
I want to lie on my belly in the woods and feel the earth pulsating beneath me, I want to inhale the scent of wood, and with it the richness and calmness of nature, I want to feel the rain falling on my body, I want to be at one with something, I want moss to grow on me and cover me up, I want to feel the ground beneath my feet, I want to feel safe, I want to be held, I want to breathe – just breathe goddammit – and know that the air in my lungs will not be a waste, I want it to be meaningful, I want to feel meaningful, I want to be a part of something, I want to grow with it all, I want to feel that everything is as it should be, that there is a purpose and that I am part of it somehow.
I want to move my body the way my body wants to move, slowly, I want to do backbends and open my heart, I want to twist the tension out of me, and connect with the parts of me that are not seen, I want to feel into the corners, the hidden spots, connect with the edges of edges. This body is a wild creature, and it wants to be felt, it wants to be awakened from the inside out. It wants to walk taller, to move softer, to rest harder.
I want to light candles until there are no more candles to burn, I want to burn everything, I want to hear the sound of a match striking, I want to cradle up in that moment, when the flame is a tiny little big bang all over again, an explosion where something is created from nothing, I want to rest there, to inhabit that space, to be creation like that, to be so alive it's explosive, but only in a moment, a little forever that lasts for just one second.
I want to have burning conversations, and to say the words that are so sharp that they take your breath away for a moment, I want to speak my truth so clearly to another human being that it ruptures the foggy something around me, I want to say the words that break down all the walls, I want to have that conversation that burns so sharply it doesn't leave ashes, only empty space.
I want to slow down so much that the time stands still, to count the minutes and the hours, I want to look at my watch a thousand times and feel like the whole eternity passed in the last two minutes, I want to brew tea without using my pressure cooker, I want to grow the trees that becomes the wood, I want to build and kindle the fire, I want the water to fall from the sky as snow, freeze to ice and then melt in the spring, I want to carry it home, I want the tea to be real herbs and spices, grown in the wild under a nurturing sun, dried in the fall, I want to drink my tea, full of warmth and healing, in the morning by the fire, I want to drink it and know that I am connected to the whole universe in a cup, I want to feel it, the way it all is connected, but must of all, most of all...
I just want something to be real.
Because it feels like nothing is ever real anymore,
and I just want
everything and nothing to be alive and to be gone to be unlimited and also confined,
but most of all most of all, I just want
something to hold on to.