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(Pre-Script: This poem fits with the song, "Shadowfeet," #56 playing in the background. Go down to the playlist, click on that song, then come back and resume reading. I'll wait...) 
(...still waiting...)
(...still waiting...)I end at the edge of myself.
I discovered this when I reached it, and the world was still happening around me,
outside of this brain and it's thoughts and reasons,
beyond this heart
and it's emotions and sharp edges of emotions and smooth end of emotions.
The world spins around every day, and I don't perceive it;
it's the spinning inside the soft walls of this flesh, the hard cage of these bones, which makes me dizzy until nauseated,
until I fall down-
and finally look up to see what's happening all around the outside of myself.
-XOXO,
I discovered this when I reached it, and the world was still happening around me,
outside of this brain and it's thoughts and reasons,
beyond this heart
and it's emotions and sharp edges of emotions and smooth end of emotions.
The world spins around every day, and I don't perceive it;
it's the spinning inside the soft walls of this flesh, the hard cage of these bones, which makes me dizzy until nauseated,
until I fall down-
and finally look up to see what's happening all around the outside of myself.
-XOXO,
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