For the reader:
By its nature, poetry can be an exaggeration of life.
How else could it give a glimpse of the experience?
I write -live- as if no one reads. As if no one judges - not even I.
So view this as an interesting story or even art, not just words, and plundge into it.
Unto the moment, then:
I dance.
I dance…
The mind releases its hold,
The body follows, it lives.
This music, this harp, this mood… It is like a ritual. To past lives.
I enter a trance.
My eyes close,
And my mind opens,
To my own realm.
My body may be dancing, but my mind is not controlling it, it is somewhere else, travelling.
I am in my own realm.
At first, I try to roam free of this vessel. But I must simply focus elsewhere. The body will dance, whether I want it to or not.
At first, I imagine taking some distance, seeing the surroundings, first from above, then further, seeing the earth, the sun.
It doesn’t come so naturally yet.
I don’t just move with the music. I am music. The rythm carries and heals me. This morning, I was recovering, and following the instructions of the herb man.
Now I am gaining energy - not by resting, but by absorbing the field, by moving in synchronicity with the waves.
And then… As my body dances…
After a few songs, I become a bard, playing music, telling, amusing. Sometimes I play flute.
The next I am a medieval dancer, and I move their way.
Then I am riding a horse amongst the stars, jumping on platforms of ether, going further and further.
Another song. I am running through fields with no particular destination. Then I am swimming through water, afterwards I am swimming in nowhere.
More songs, different styles, different realms.
A viking on a galère, advancing in the sea, afterwards a soldier with a lance then an axe, marching to fight.
I am Alexander The Great.
My body tries to represent with dancing what my mind conceives, but it cannot, it has shackles. No matter, the ritual continues, at times the music becomes rave-like.
Finally, I am but a puppet of the musical strings, in the end I am but vibration, resonating to the sounds.
I have no balance, but the flow allows no mistake.
Still, as the music ends, I am still partly in the worlds of ages past.
The star guide brought me here.
She is ahead in matters of spirits, she warns of forbidden knowledge I know I must wield. Immortality, the secrets of the free maçons, the stars, destiny, the laws of the universe, of philosophy, of attraction. Truths hidden behind symbols. A limit? The hardest book? No. A challenge!
Conversation knows no limits, no judgments. She is like me in so many ways - too many.
I exit the moment, still carrying its energy.
I had to run and write to release it.
So I ran.
And I wrote.
The way Nietzsche would want - the way that makes me unique.