Shall I weave a dream among the stars that began with a single spark?

A crimson timeline that reached for my arrival. Feeding me in times of rest.

I transform solid-state matter into a feast for the senses. Every rock and tree, every blade of grass. I give myself this time to be with myself. For my self is ever-changing, ever-learning, ever-being! Never alone.

I am everything. I am all that is being experienced. I am a vessel of divinity throughout.

But I know this shall be a rest of reflection. A rest that incubates thought and revolution. A rest that releases me from all that has held for so long. All the pain and solitude from being turned away by loves beyond definition. A rest that allows me to tap into a part forgotten. But retraced. Not repeated.

By the crimson hands that made my existence a power. I say to you. I am exhausted. I no longer bear the fruit of the animal that consumes its own flesh and mind with the same old mistakes.

Teach me how to live for myself. So I can take care of you. For you are me. And I am you.

Oh what you could create.

November, 2023.