There was light and there was the meat of my mother.
I felt the cold air but it did not feel me.
My bones hardened and expanded.
They tugged my flesh and my organs until I stood among men.
But there was a vacuum in their eyes.
The flowers and the beasts know nothing of me
The mountains and the streams slowly flatten and dry.
I breathe and my breath burns me.
We are shadows that fade away.
There is a space between my skin.
It is between the bones and the membranes and the brain.
It covers the thin layers of brown fat.
Nothing can fill it.
I am alone.
Older people blew into me.
They pushed and threw until I drifted with the wind.
I wanted to live
I met a woman who tore my nails and my hair and my muscles.
She burned me into fine powders.
Then I made love to the dust.
Then she drank me with the water.
I was nothing outside her massy womb.
I feel the earth tilting under my feet.
The shadows have stopped growing.
The sun is dying.
The moon is falling apart.
I am leaving.
Will you forget me?
