the onion of the soul

where does the trigger hit? when chord is struck what is the first thing to feel? the heart? the mind? the soul? things untapped?

is it a call to help, or a soft reminder to look up? to remember that you are not your thoughts, your feelings, your actions, to remain present in the BODY. Of this, I am not certain. The further I delve into the peeling of my own ostensible epidermis, astounds me. the layer that protects serves in tandem as the first layer of vulnerability, waiting in utmost desire for penetration of soul experience. touch. contact. sensations.

the malleability of form, the depth within, crying, sharp knife meeting it's delicate exterior, separating protection from absorption. hiding from being seen. to hold space for the unraveling of the whole, slow dancing between fear and excitement, known and unknown. knowing the uncertainty of the now all that holds true for the single breath of this moment is all that which we are guaranteed.


the triggers serving as a starting point, knife kissing skin, words exchanged in a felt sense, words not meaning words in the way that we think as the body knows no such language thereof. what comes next is none of the certain, pain, strife, integration, chapter opening to next layer.

surrender protection. cease knight's charging vigil. eyes open to the nudity of what is to arise, knife whispering soft riddles, triggering what is yet to come, in this moment, this time.