From the uber-talented Clare Martin.
“Starry Night Over the Rhone” (September 1888) Vincent van Gogh
Empty your lungs. Rise to take another breath. The rhythm so innate, so intimate. Let water enter your mouth. Breathe in, breathe in a sea. Your own body: a river evolved. Empty. Full. I am a new species. Move in sync with breath. Gather water and release it.
Enter the trance—no feeling or fear. The mind departs the premises. Death would be welcome here. Thought relinquished. Thoughts of carnage shut behind far off doors miles from here.
I am on a peak of a wave. Buoyed atop a fiery new mountain. My vision—obsidian-oblique. The water’s properties: sometimes rope, sometimes a mother’s arms, sometimes God, sometimes a hurricane without animus.
Swim with grace. No heaving chest. No despair for breath. Great wind in me. The world is coarse. Its blood-rot so far away—an unreality in sacred water. The last vestige of…
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