We are stiff creatures, contained creatures, creatures of control.
And yet, there is nothing more desirable for our innermost core, the very definition of our Being, than that which our logical selves so desperately wish to bridle as one would do a rowdy horse.
Running barefoot in fields, in meadows, in forests; our heads thrown back in the compulsory act of being Alive for the very first time; screaming, yelling at the stars, the moon, emptying our hearts and minds, opening up the floodgates of repression and letting out all: the ecstatic, the wretched, the lonely, the frustrating, the maddening, the rapturous, that had built up within;
dancing under the sun until our bodies are on fire, scorching flames both from the desperation within and the heat without.
No thoughts, no morals, no societal conformity, no restraints, no awareness of anything other than the extreme force of consumption exercised by the present act.
Never can we be closer to God than when we give ourselves up to this barbaric, enthralling, animalistic, raw behaviour, fully, entirely, coercively, until the boundaries of our own person, our individuality, become blurred and we are nothing, we are everything.
Alive! Alive! Experiencing the divine in every vain, in every cell, the sublime beating in our hearts, every breath a prayer and a scream.
- pars poetica // creatures of control