Tale Older than Time

I feel the white hot breath of creation

It courses through my body like a dragon

Blood thirsty to destroy this immovableness of my body

It’s begging for release, it’s deeply restricted

Shackled in this human vessel, this body

Like lava in a titanium clay pot

The pot cracks and disintegrates into nothingness

And that is the process of creation

And after is the cooling rush, the minty fresh antidote of nothingness

Bringing my soul back to equilibrium