The body is an infinite memory. It remembers the touch of every blade of grass, the whisper of wind in the field, the weight of the sky before the rain. Through its veins flows not just blood, but the voices of those who walked this land before us.
At times, these voices ignite, for a moment illuminating the darkness within. It is neither pain nor joy. It is a moment of pure realization: you are but a temporary vessel for roots that are eternal.
This is transformation—when the self dissolves into the collective breath of the earth.
keefsnfts
