The Origin

When something gives you energy, your soul whispers: “This is where you belong.”

A chord is struck. A bright vapor stirs within your head, unfurling toward the outer edges of the skull. Paper lanterns light up in the alleys of the mind.

Time stops—then resumes, and suddenly accelerates.

During that golden window, you are not in command. It does not matter. There is no you anymore. The still you—thinking and not thinking—rests on the bench, for now.

Something—or someone—else is in charge. It doesn’t matter who, or what. There is no “who”, or “others”, or “me”. You are a conduit, a vessel.

Have I been one all along?