I struggle mightily at times, sensing an entire cosmos bound between my ears, silent.
Like the depths of space, all creative potential and matter and darkness is twisted, tangled, entwined; nothing can escape the blackness.

It ruptures and a smack of light pokes the distance.
Word, thought, emotion, muscle flows from the hole.
I’m overwhelmed; my body cannot handle all of it.
It retreats.

The cycle repeats, like breathing – just like breathing.
All of life is bound up in breath: the very essence of life itself,
and the lessons we are to learn.


The breath of the universe.
Embodied in us, behind the scenes – silent, loud, moaning, gasping, scratching.


Quiet again.

Processes of birth and death and rebirth and life – struggle and pain, loss and gain.

I must escape. I must break free – like Sia, like all the ancients before gasping their last breath and moving into the aether.

Where does it lead?
Where do we go?
Can we follow in the footsteps of our ancestors?


Oh, that we may be surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses!

Cocooned by an ever-present moment,
we poke through at times…that’s how we see rapture:
Get a glimpse of love and the infinite.

My head is light and must nearly explode.
Every cell in my body yearns to be embraced by everything else around me.
Distance is an illusion. Everything is connected in a wet, sloppy soup.

Oh, to shed this skin of modernity! To run naked through the brush and undergrowth – grasping at objects because they look tasty and for no other reason.
The feeling of coarse hair against my face, my hands – scratching with nails made claws.

What’s the difference?

We enslaved plants and conquered the cows.

Shed naked ambition and shed inhibition, naked.
Howling at the full moon, I bask in the rush of fog spewing from my mouth.
Saliva drips down fruit, skin.
Break the skin; break the mold.

What is mind but a construct embodying mostly empty space?

Particles clumping together – waves pounding about in the wind of the cosmos.
We cannot see what reality actually looks like – or if it exists at all.

We are condensed mind of the cosmos – facets of one, great, intertwined Self.
The diversity groans under the carrying capacity of our singular planet.

What happens as we continue outrunning our destinies?

One thought on “rapture | one

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