Algo se agita, algo se agita. Las siento venir, las
siento venir a las palabras, y también a ella, la muerte. Bienvenida muerte, y
bienvenidas palabras. Ahora sí, ahora fluyen, rojas como la sangre que llega,
oscuras y poderosas como la luna oscura de hoy.
Como al cambiar mi piel de serpiente, mi pelo de loba
o mis plumas de lechuza, me muero para renacer y lo siento porque algo se
agita. Partes de mi se van con mi sangre, con estas palabras y con la luna
nueva. Parte de mi se muere para renacer, como la luna.
Pareciera que en este punto del círculo el límite se
hace muy fino y se puede viajar al otro mundo y observar lo que hay en lo
profundo adentro. Adentro y afuera se confunden, se hacen uno. Se agranda el
movimiento y hay sueños, palabras, percepciones, entendimiento y una cierta claridad y conexión, teñida de angustia y duelo.
Siento la fuerza hacia adentro, la claridad, la
quietud de la muerte y la fuerza del cambio que impone, omnipotente, cruda,
salvaje, roja como mi sangre, oscura como la luna nueva. Siento la agitación y el movimiento adentro y así
como se contradicen mis palabras, mezclando claridad y angustia, movimiento y
quietud, muerte y vida, así también me contradigo yo, no sabiendo si salir, o
quedarme, tocar o escribir, reflexionar o sentir, anclarme o moverme, sintiendo
en la sangre el dolor, el duelo, la quietud de la muerte y conectando a la vez con
el movimiento, el dolor también pero el milagro de nacer de nuevo.
Something is restless, something is restless. I feel them coming, I feel words coming and I also feel her, death. Welcome death, and welcome words. Yes, they flow now, red like the blood that is coming, dark and powerful like the dark moon of today. Like when I change my snake skin, my wolf fur or my owl feathers, I die to be reborn and I feel it because something is restless. Some parts of me leave me with the blood, with these words, with the new moon. A part of me dies to be reborn, like the moon. It seems that at this point of the circle, the boundary becomes very thin and I can travel into the other world and observe what lies deep inside. Inside and outside become one. Movement becomes big, there are dreams, words, perceptions, insights, a certain clarity and connection, colored with anguish and mourning.
I feel the force towards the inside, the clarity, the stillness of death and the strength of the change that it imposes, all-powerful, raw, wild, red like my blood. I feel the restlessness and the movement inside and as my words become contradictory, mixing clarity and anguish, movement and stillness, death and life, I also contradict myself, not knowing if I should go out or stay, play or write, think or feel, anchor myself or move, feeling in the blood the pain, the mourning, the stillness of death, and connecting at the same time with the movement, the pain also, but the miracle of being born again.
***
Something is restless, something is restless. I feel them coming, I feel words coming and I also feel her, death. Welcome death, and welcome words. Yes, they flow now, red like the blood that is coming, dark and powerful like the dark moon of today. Like when I change my snake skin, my wolf fur or my owl feathers, I die to be reborn and I feel it because something is restless. Some parts of me leave me with the blood, with these words, with the new moon. A part of me dies to be reborn, like the moon. It seems that at this point of the circle, the boundary becomes very thin and I can travel into the other world and observe what lies deep inside. Inside and outside become one. Movement becomes big, there are dreams, words, perceptions, insights, a certain clarity and connection, colored with anguish and mourning.
I feel the force towards the inside, the clarity, the stillness of death and the strength of the change that it imposes, all-powerful, raw, wild, red like my blood. I feel the restlessness and the movement inside and as my words become contradictory, mixing clarity and anguish, movement and stillness, death and life, I also contradict myself, not knowing if I should go out or stay, play or write, think or feel, anchor myself or move, feeling in the blood the pain, the mourning, the stillness of death, and connecting at the same time with the movement, the pain also, but the miracle of being born again.
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