We stardust souls are eternal, yet needing a flesh costume to affect and interact in the physical world. So we subject ourselves to the death-rebirth trauma of being born, forgetting most of our knowledge and wisdom in the process.
Then we grow and learn what we can in a lifetime. Laughter and joy. Friendship. Hope and despair. Love and hate. Pain and anguish.
When the flesh grows weak and old, we die and remember everything from the beginning of time. Remember the reason we undertake life again and again. Only to once again choose the flesh costume. Hoping this time we’ll be able to awaken the flesh’s animal soul enough to impart some of our wisdom. Knowing that all we can hope to become, are messengers.
Only mouths are we. Who sings the distant heart which safely exists in the center of all things.
Written for Prosery: Here’s the thing about existing at dVerse. Where we write prose, maximum 144 words, incorporating a line of poetry.
Tonight’s line is from a favorite poet.
“Only mouths are we. Who sings the distant heart which safely exists in the center of all things? – from Rainer Maria Rilke, “Heartbeat.”