Where we come from.
My naked skin, a body of flesh and bones, the depth of the forest, singing birds. My home.
Whatever I do, which kind of fabric I lay on my skin, it’s what always walks with me. The sound of the drums, my beating heart.
My soul has not forgotten.
Remember, my dear. Remember. Strip down your clothes, bed yourself in the soft moss of this planet. It’s not about the shapes, it never has been. Its about the feeling. The tingle. Come home to her.
We bow down in front of you.
We place our heads in the grass by your feet. We honour your path, your wisdom, your beauty.
We see you. The stories you have to tell. The path you have walked with your bare feet. The moments of bliss, the moments of fear. Worlds changing in front of your eyes. The lines in your faces, oh beautiful river, an painting of the earth.
Thank you for bringing in a completely new perspective to a world that’s addicted to youth.
I AM ONE WITH YOUR SOIL
THE WIND ON MY NAKED SKIN
THE RAIN DROPS DRIPPING OF MY CHIN.