It has its roots in the deepest of the earth and it circles the whirling mysteries.
In my vision I see unbearable walls arranged in identical rows like sets of perfect teeth. One moment I feel their presence, looming and bending over me like an iron curtain dancing to steel winds. They take too much space and in that space entire eons are trapped, helplessly torn from the fabric of the air. But then I blink and there’s an amber light and I step over the walls as they crumble beneath my feet like a faulty sand castle. That’s when I realise that I’m the one taking too much space and in that moment I feel the aeons burrowing their way out of my skin, gasping for all the air they’ve been denied.
When I wake up, I name the three tears on my pillow after the seasons and the hole in my chest grunts in protest.