A Womb Outgrown

A Womb Outgrown (No Room In The Womb) Another conveyance in the journey of me. Know this, my story, is your story. We are not so unlike. Click the image for the hint of you.

Day by day, life here, in this realm, this dimension, this world, offers little. What I used to enjoy has now become sickeningly void of worthwhile substance. There are no games here, now, that elicit my interest, nor do they provide any joy. Only a few matters of the heart cradle any reason to be. Talking with others, for the most part, leaves me empty, for while I provide waters that end thirst, others, for the most part, offer little more than syrupy sugar that tantalizes only tongues.

There are kind pockets of rest and fleeting comfort, but now, the world is foreign to me, like a place I landed without reason nor compass. In reflection, life here, for me, was without direction or purpose. It was not until my dark soulful nights in the desert that what once was my life, died. That experience, at least in part, was horridly empty for a time, a place between places, alive but dead, a leaving of old familiars while awaiting what seemed unknown. It was not until another doorway appeared that what was unknown to me, instantly became known. It was a time of rebirth, from sorrows of decay to joys of a child. Though the fires between burned and hurt beyond description, so too was the fulfillment of the joy to come. When I came to see me as the most beautiful place I had ever visited, I decided then to stay in this new wondrous place called, me.

Now, many years later, I find my self again in a shrinking womb, with little room for me. This time, is not me changing from me, but old safe comforts that no longer comfort but feel confined and once again, foreign, even ugly.

It is me, again, this time outgrowing the place I once found sense, now insane and despicable. It is quite the change from sunrise to sunset, to sunrise, from ice, to water, to vapor, from spirit, to flesh, to spirit. Oh how we confine, define and manifest small things, when from once we were infinite, now finite - now finite. Ah, but what is that, that glimmers in this darkness? Could it be infinincy? Is it over there? No, it’s behind me, to the right, left, above and below. No, its not just all around, it’s me, this new, once old infant, arriving again in my leaving. Is this joy in the morning once more? Have my tears dried to salt as I waken this beautiful morning, somewhere far from where the night’s sorrows ended?

Again, as if just born, I find no words, no, not even a tongue to speak with, nor anything from what was, that can describe what is. But joy lives here, and that is enough. It feeds me as I drink it in, without nary a demand or desire to understand, just comfort in knowing, I am well. I would say it is good to breath, but these lungs, they take not air; yet I am alive, I exist without definition or form. I Am.

~ I Am - Wisdom

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