DATURA
10.12.20
You must have good posture.
I mean it. Stand up. Stand up straight. Let your shoulder-blades hug your spine, your tailbone tuck beneath your hips. May your chin parallel the floor, and your eyes look ahead. Walk with practiced steps. The type of prowl that carries purpose in ambition trailheads and indecision sidewalks.
Let me explain; so far I’ve talked up my downfalls. I am, only human after all. Don’t mistake grace for weakness. tenderness for powerlessness. This ethereal compassion of mine is the pockets of matter making up my skeleton. Air matter that can re-shape mountains, tour guide tornadoes, and breeze-pluck an eyelash from your fingertip. This life force in my veins is more water than blood. I can quench the thirst of the loveless and lost, hydrate hope back into eyes of the forlorn. Show them tears are equal parts earthquake and revolution.
So if you must know one thing about me, Datura:
I will not be contained.
“Love one another, but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other’s cup but drink not from one cup.
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.
Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping. For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together: For the pillars of the temple stand apart, And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow.”
-Kahlil Gibran