Who is the one touching?

Who is the touched one?

​

Clouds, perhaps a colorful bird or a thought.

They come and they go.

They are unrooted.

Clouds or some landscapes without roots.

You are a bag of skin inside of there is emptiness.

​

So, there is no mover, no dancer.

There is emptiness.

And you dance.

With a sense of playfulness. 

…because all the souls wander around. All the ghosts and potential forces that give a pain and leave a painful slit behind become furious while they do everything to bring the owner back to life. 

My body.

The sensed one.

A bridge to yours.

How many skills, forgotten and denied, can be revealed to reach to your senses?

I want to be melted.

I always thought I wanted to be melted in you: not only in/with your body but also in your senses.

​

Then, my perceptions have been changed.

From now on, I want to be melted into the emptiness.