Of My Body

Of my body:

to think of my body — and in a certain view I’m no longer sure of a reference point to consider what’s mine, for any inquiry leads me further to the world and greater still the universe and every reach of star. This isn’t a metaphorical claim, but an actual cosmological view. It’s obvious to me that I’m a galaxy of my own, a spacious recognition of particles in a whirl of atoms, elements created in the cosmos, and seamless to the touch of air against me. Where exactly does my own body end and the universe itself begin? My reference point is lost in this consideration.

of my body, and this seems more to be a claim of awareness — as if there is a witness to it’s functions and performance that is more true in ownership, that there is a part of me greater than the sum of parts, a larger body still, unseen, spacious to the point of being infinite in the capacity of its hold. My body belongs to this awareness, more so, it’s all too seamless to really believe there’s a line of separation, just aware, and everything belongs without a single claim of ownership.

yes, the body is aware, there’s no observer set apart from it, that’s a delusion of the mind, a trick played by the senses. The word I keep returning to is seamless, and with this there is no need to draw a line within awareness. Everything belongs, and without explanation as to how it may appear. My body shows…