A beam of white light touches a prism and suddenly both are transformed by a flood of colour.
Connection is fear and longing. It leaves me shaken but nourished. How could you ever predict who will utter a word of the language spoken in the deepest recesses of your mind? An ordinary person touches the pressure point unlocking a place you keep hidden and when you look up they are ordinary no more.
And you are soothed in wounded places. And you scratch at them.
Weight of the most powerful life force. They taught me that Namaste was the way of saying “I greet the part in you where we are one”.
And you talk for six hours.
And as you dance the music enters two bodies like a breath. You are suspended in time and space.
And a stranger speaking in a crowded room fills you with such emotion that you don’t trust yourself to reply.
So you rub desperately at the rawness inside you - as if a visceral reaction, any more than an overplayed thought, could possibly offer protection from the corrosive nature of your own self-doubt.
A hand shifts our birdcages around. Some are brought closer. Some move apart. Do not try to reason it out. Be conscious of who draws you, and who not.