What screws us up most in life is the picture in our head of how it is supposed to be
The breeze tickles your skin. Whispers of sickly sweet smells enter your nose and your eyes shut automatically. As you breath, the world around you spirals and collapses in on you. You feel everything.
The way the blue sky filled with birds tickles your ribcage. The branches of willow trees brush against you cheeks. Water from the river flows across your stomach and grass grows and wraps itself around your legs.
You can taste the roses and honeysuckle. Feel little creatures running across your body. The earth lies on top of you and below you, sandwiching your body in a mass of soil and sky.
And as the river on your stomach expands and washes your body clean and the soil below it turns to sand and you feel the fish nibbling on your fingers and the ends of you hair. Crabs scuttle about and turtles search for land.
The sun is out and the water dries up. The sand below becomes the beach and there are seagulls and crabs and turtles. Turtles lay eggs and you feel the eggs on the surface of your skin. Cold and hard like the cliff on which the eagle nests.
The cliff so high that even the hard skin of your feet is torn apart by it’s raggedness.
The forest below it rains and rains and spiders come out and leopards prey. The world is complete and full as the desert forms on your lips which crack and burn but it is so beautiful in it’s emptiness you cease to care.
What other world should we wish to live in when ours within ourself is already so perfect.