There was a storm,
a huge, dark storm.
It was rushing throughout my body, rushing throughout my veins.
Like big, confused waves, forcing my body to shake.
No way to hide, no way to be reprieved.
Every time I got confused about my life, about people,
about what is wrong or right.
Every time I felt the heaviness, the heaviness of being,
reflected in the tired eyes of people, their tired, sad eyes,
this storm started to rear up, rear up inside of me.
I felt it in my belly and I felt it in my heart.
I could do nothing, nothing but withstand that mess,
that mess within myself, within my body.
Eventually I couldn’t bear the waves,
the violent, bewildered waves.
All of the sudden, the bewildered waves flowed out of my belly,
and I could see the storm, see the storm in front of me.
I could watch him from outside, outside like a seperate being.
And my body, my body was covered by a capsule,
a bright, orange capsule.
I was safe, safe and calm.
That day I became friends with the storm,
the bewildered storm, which was no longer inside of me,
but which I could watch as an observer.
I observed the beauty, the beauty and necessity of the storm,
which I regarded as so painful.
He made me feel uncomfortable, unbearably uncomfortable.
I had to open my body, open my body and let the waves pour out of me,
to gain space, gain space for the universe,
so the light could invade and gently coat my heart.
