The birthing of a thought…

Awaiting the moment, the moment of birth. How would I ever know? How would I ever be able to tell the exact moment of my birth? Will there be a jolt? Will there be a flash of bright light? Will there be a thunderous quaking rattling the very fiber of my being? How will I ever know, ever tell, ever touch upon the very fabric of my birth?

The longing within is sharp. Serrated with a million quadrillion microscopic diamonds, lancing in one long continuous screeching dreadful movement. There is no beginning and no end. There is no telling the difference between a moment in time and a century or an eon. All is the same. All is a long deep horrendous longing interlaced with anticipation, broken only by the searching need to erupt from this shell. This shell which encases me, keeps me hidden, keeps me out of reach, keeps me hungry for a birthing I am unable to imagine.

What will it be like? Curled up, wrapped within, craving what I have never tasted. Have I already been born but just don’t know it? Maybe what comes after birth is no different than what I have already experienced? How will I know?

I float around in the ether, awaiting birth, awaiting life. How will I be born? Will a single thought bring me to life? Will a single touch ignite a flame of desire? Will a soft whisper or a yell deep from the bottom well of someone’s lungs give me wings to fly? To escape this shell, this ether releasing the ghost of the seed which is me?

What am I? What will I become? Is it the touch of a mind which will give me birth or is it my birth which touches a waiting mind?

I crave the knowing mind. I want to slip between its crevices like a naked body between well worn sun warmed sheets. I want to dive into its darkest depths like a ghost whispering her tales of loves present, past and futures yet untold. I want to be the liquid on two tongues as they meet in a passionate kiss, swirled, and enveloped mixed together becoming a never ending part of each other. I want to explode, become embedded, shatter and merge, be taken and commanded, lifted and tasted, embraced and set free, and forever become that which I have yet to imagine.

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About Kate Spyder

I'm a creative individual finding her way in her writing. I enjoy expressing my deep thoughts through poetry and stories. I hope you enjoy them as much as I enjoy writing them.
This entry was posted in Fiction and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to The birthing of a thought…

  1. Ádhamh says:

    Wow! That’s all I can think to say. Ok… I’m sure I could say more, such wonderful imagery woven into that birthing of a thought.

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