They walked slowly down the corridor streets,
eyes looking ahead for the edge of the land.
Dying embers on charred wood still smoking,
cracking between curled fingers.
Both the city and night,
Two figures black against a growing ocean.
A long breath,
ribs, shoulders, chest,
rising and falling across hours.
Cast me into the water,
to the titanic weight
To sink and sink to a depth
where I am unable to be recognised,
to be found whole –
forget the touch of my skin,
the face you found refuge within.
They are once again, unbound.
Even my piss runs clap cold,
flowing in rivers down my legs.
The air around it, cobblestones below
You linger a moment, peering down at the surface. Waiting, willing something to rise from beneath.
Somewhere, a long way off, wooden chair legs scrape as they’re placed beside a table.
spreading fire – the cave
To You that was it. So our We-space ends. I sit with the rest, trying to make sense. Questions to the World. Questions to myself ( empty all dried up hanging in thin air like dropped suspended frozen, left behind ) From here: Where to turn… How… CAN I connect?
The Flame relates to her surroundings through eye contact, but she received a gift from The Flow, during her lessons at Ryslinge Højskole, which moved The Flame to investigate this way of relating. The Flame manifested herself blindfolded during lunch time in the dining hall, the living room and the…