I can feel you.
Time and again.
I don’t know where I am but I have decided to adapt.
Here on my knees in the middle of the glade. Here, by the forest line. A place encircling me with firs. It seems that I have always been here. For ages.
Forever.
With the passage of time, with the realms changing and passing by. This place has become my habitat. I could not flee. There is no escape. There is no way out. A place devoid of clarity and without a sense of time. And there is no need for me to eat or drink. It works within me, naturally. And it gives me everything my body needs. I do not have to care for anything. Water and warmth – arrive at intervals.
Provided.
From a place far away.
A place I can only imagine.
The stars passing by in circles and bolts of lightning striking in multiple beams. Over and over again. Cloudy formations towering above the clearing - laden with thunder and confusing colours. Drifting by in multiple patterns. The interplay of distant monument-like, shiny elements and a volatile haze. Running and turning and drifting - like a perpetual wheel. It goes on and on.
This is my world.
And these are my skies.
Concentrated here on the glade, the clearing.
My material, physical habitat.
But I can feel you!
And my breath – somehow it feels like it is controlled by a source that manifests in the place far away and beyond the chaotic skies. An outside source. My breath is being breathed - it is provided. Its origin is square and dynamic. Cubic. Snapshots I can see - sometimes. Along with the distinct scents of sterility. At times lingering for a second in my nose. Here and there the perception of a sudden cooling, relieving parts of my existence. Parts of my body.
Every breath comes through metal, through hoses and tubes. Yes, it seems I live through machines - dependent on engine-like, humming and steely and beeping shiny devices.
They seem medical in nature.
Rustling and vibrating in intervals. Sometimes hurting my ear or like a stab to my brain or a sting to my arm. But I cannot describe or explain it. I cannot find a solution.
I just exist.
And there is no change.
Except for the chaotic, illogical skies - ranging from silhouettes to lightning and colours no one could ever find an expression for. It is just a fragment in my memory. 2 % perception that binds me to the machine. It is just a notion. All I know is that I am here and Molly and you are my anchors.
Molly rests by my side. She is a faithful, dear friend. Near me. Always. She lingers there in her endurance, warmth and kindness.
But then there are moments when I can feel my body from the outside. Suddenly sensing parts of my tongue. So heavy. Just like a damp cloth. My chin moist, limp, and stiff. I remember areas of my body divided into small squares that only partially react to stimuli.
Plasters.
Tearing on my body. I can feel scars knitted together - mending my leather-like skin.
And then the heavy blow. Throwing me back to the habitat, the glade. Hard.
An impact. Straight to the midst of my tiny, little piece of earth. Down to my knees. My face in the sand, soaking up my tears.
I am far away from physicality. But I have a connection to pain but not access to what is beyond my world.
Molly is so warm and cuddly, her heartbeat soft and steady. She smells of something familiar. Like something touching and challenging my inner and deepest longings. It is her that calms me down.
And when the firs come near. It is her that clings to my neck, fluffy at my ears. Gently tickling my eyelids when I draw her close and embrace her. In fear of what lurks within the forest line. This is her task – a duty. It is the concept that you entrusted her with. You told her to be near. A command. You placed her so close to my heart to accompany me.
And she smells of you.
Something tender and cautious, there is something that holds me in a way that the chaotic firmament and the forest line could never provide. And when my face is hidden deeply in the sand. In desperation. On my knees. My paralysed face pressed into the sand of the glade.
This is when I am facing the radiance.
Captivating and engaging. Yes, filling out every possible void - without even a sand grain of bitterness. Giving order to the skies.
This is when your radiance unfolds.
This is when your light and your radiant glow break through.
It is the beginning. It is the source. It is full of order. It resolves the turmoil. Just like cool and refreshing bandages laid gently on the small quadrants dividing my body into areas that are still sensitive to touch. Sore and pitted and smooth. The medicine administered. I can sense it in here, my habitat. Again, a scent of sterility. Only in airy, volatile vapors. Randomly tickling in my nose. In a haze. In a second.
But I feel that you are in control of every single spot and square, of every area - one after another cools down by the touch of your hand, it is mended and soothed.
This is the way I receive your care - here in the glade.
Constantly. Here in my habitat. And when the pain is reaching its peak and taking my breath away - another cloud carries your radiance – falling on my shoulders. Relaxing the tension through illuminating particles rippling and pouring straight in my heart.
I sense that any pain I feel is a dagger to your heart.
You are from the outside. Yet you affect me.
And I am on my knees. Again.
Here in the glade, in the forest which is so dark and shadowy. This is the element and origin of my fear. The black firs surrounding the place.
A place where you are.
But firs.
They surround me like a border and you do not want me to trespass the line. From the outside - you set the bounds.
As I am on my knees. Again - right here in the clearing. With a rolling and salty tear streaming down paralized skin. Along with a cry for you, it begins again.
I do know it. It comes at intervals.
This is what hurts me again and again. And I cannot control it.
Suddenly there is alarm in the distance. I am familiar with it. Firs are approaching, coming nearer and nearer. Turmoil in the world in between, the interplay of the forest‘s gloom and the firmament. It diminishes the habitat. Trees putting down their roots in the ground. Heavily, with violence. Tearing holes in the ground of the glade. Reclaiming soil. They are crawling towards me, consuming the grass, almost melting the sand, trembling. The clearing in danger.
There is a rustling in the machine. A ticking, a rattling. A stab. Shadow creatures flowing into my veins. Out of the machine and wildly dispersed in my world. This is how it comes. Again and again. And I know it! It has struck me countless times. It is like there is panic in the outside.
That there is something serious about my body.
And then it is over, again.
A projection cast on the borders – by your hands. Even here you manage to manifest a shining star. Sometimes only pinhead-sized but firmly anchored and safe - holding gleamy particles of your glow, your radiance, your refulgence.
But you and Molly. Yes, it is so different. I can access you easily. I can call on you. Though I am afraid of the forest. Each time when a shiver runs through my body - you toss moments of light on the clearing. Pouring it over. Moments, where your radiance unfolds. Moments that heal and reactivate. You want me to stay within the glade. This is why your light particles fall like heavy rain every time I dare a step towards the border marked by the firs. Because beyond it lies the end.
You do not want to lose me*
You shield me from the noises, the thunder fragments in the night. From the forest it is approaching me, hostile and undefinable.
Well, my perception is greatly magnified.
The substance administered to relieve the tension. It is affecting my mind, it is blurring lines of things I see and sense and think.
But you remain. On and on.
I can sense and smell you in Molly. Yes. I do believe that somehow I resemble you, I am similar to your heart‘s desire. Similar to your character and to what occupies your heart.
I am yours.
It seems.
It is something that is bigger than any emotion I know. It originates from the earliest seconds of my existence. The earliest seed of my mind, my body, my soul. I am connected with you. I belong to you. Your light will always track my thoughts, it is the constant.
Molly doesn’t speak. But she is present. I never exchanged a word with her. I do not even know if she is able to talk. But it was your gift. You placed her so near to me. And she embodies your presence with peace and quietness. She rests beneath my chin.
But I am so afraid of the foreign breath. The machine is flowing and pumping. A stream is rushing through my nose. Like shreds of artificial air, vanishing in the distance and upwards to the firmament. It is crawling through my circulatory system. Tubes in my throat, running down my throat – leading to my stomach. I live on machines – connected with them by tentacles.
Veils of light cast on the firs by your hands. Indeed like garlands. And I hold on to them.
And now. One square after another reaches out, then again atrophies. Nerves that are burnt. Skin that is scorched. Feeling and reviving in minimal intervals. Stretching out for life. Yes, they want to live. Their endings are reaching out - peeling off from all bleakness. Reaching out from the dip and depression. Trying to adapt to the emotion, intent on returning to the ancient, bruised reality.
But the forest remains.
Firs - swaying in the wind. Now on my knees. I am kneeling underneath the garlands. Shedding a tear for it was hard. But I am kneeling in the gleam of their radiance and glow. A pulsating luminescence. I am encircled by the forest. Here in my habitat. My home.
This is when you are calling me.
Before the machine in the distance suddenly loses its drive and engine and the forest approaches me and I am surrounded more tightly. This is the moment when your radiance finds a way into places within me. Places rooted in my soul - all replacing the emotion and the sensory perception.
I know it. Yes, I am aware of it. Constantly I have communicated with you. It was an enduring cry - directed at the clouds. Spreading over my firmament. I cried out underneath the midnight sky, the habitat, my home. Heavily.
Your hand held me - firmly, carefully, gently. Every hit, stab, dizziness and light and garlands and machines. Every falling on my knees and every tube. Tentacles connected with my belly, sterile vapors and the firs…
You are calling me!
Sometime on a Tuesday - on an early summer day - I am opening my eyes.
Slowly.
Blinking.
The chaos. Now beginning to trickle from me like fine, white sand. It was so consuming, so profound and real. It took everything from me. Everything I had.
I can hardly move. Beside my neck - something fluffy. Warm and soft. Resting at my cheek.
I know her!
I do remember her.
I am surprised that you wrapped a cloth around her body. My favourite colour – now shining before my eyes.
Your hand propping my neck, I am held - by you. Everything is fine.
It could not be better.
I can see a nurse standing by the door, wiping a tear from her eye. They have been waiting. For so long.
It seems.
People in white coats walking by. Tubes beside me, hoses. The tentacles. A distant beeping.
So familiar!
I am astonished. I can see so much. I am feeling my toes, fingers. I can smell the medicine from rubber gloves.
I have left my home, my habitat, the forest. Your garlands, the obscure shadings and the ever changing patterns in the skies. And yet - I am home.
More than ever. More than could be.
Everything is quiet and calm. From the window the sunlight is streaming through, a glimpse of blue sky in the corner of the windowpane. White walls. Blinding me - but not hurting my eye.
You are there!
And I no longer feel anything down in my throat. You are holding my hand gently.
These are the first seconds.
I was long gone, long away. From the window comes a breath of fresh air, touching the tip of my nose and resting for a second. Like a light particle landing on my skin.
I am safe and sound. More than could be.
And I am clinging to it.
I am holding on to it. I am holding it gently and trustingly.
With all of me!
Always.
My fingers, held.
Firmly.
In the hands of my father.