Once upon a time, there was a caterpillar. This caterpillar ate and ate and ate. Then it stopped eating until it needed to, and suddenly, everything became sensual.
The caterpillar had a tiny heart, and as it climbed into a cotton cocoon, its heart broke just like every other part of it. Eyes, heart, body, all of it fell apart and became nothing.
And then the new life, itself from itself, human after all, born as the sun shone hard on rocks.
With its new gaze, it stared at the empty land and slowly became afraid. It felt a tremendous ache on its back, a heaviness like tar. Arching its back to shed the feeling, the child was struck by an enormous pain, greater and stranger than anything it had ever felt. There was a rush of air and a beating, a ferocious beating that matched the child's own racing heart.
For the first time in its short existence, the child looked back.
Its eyes opened wide and filled with tears; it began to cry, because it saw that it was not alone, but flanked by two lithe wings. Nothing would ever be impossible again. And the awful weight of that, the ecstasy of that, rained through its body like a storm in reverse.
There is no ending.
The caterpillar had a tiny heart, and as it climbed into a cotton cocoon, its heart broke just like every other part of it. Eyes, heart, body, all of it fell apart and became nothing.
And then the new life, itself from itself, human after all, born as the sun shone hard on rocks.
With its new gaze, it stared at the empty land and slowly became afraid. It felt a tremendous ache on its back, a heaviness like tar. Arching its back to shed the feeling, the child was struck by an enormous pain, greater and stranger than anything it had ever felt. There was a rush of air and a beating, a ferocious beating that matched the child's own racing heart.
For the first time in its short existence, the child looked back.
Its eyes opened wide and filled with tears; it began to cry, because it saw that it was not alone, but flanked by two lithe wings. Nothing would ever be impossible again. And the awful weight of that, the ecstasy of that, rained through its body like a storm in reverse.
There is no ending.
