The Cradle of the Mind (Pt. 1)

I am walking through the forsest, at dawn. I had anticipated that I would wake up early. The sunrise behind me, the world in front of me, I am walking as far as I can. I had promised myself that any genocide of will that might come up would just be a justification of a higher power in charge of the design and of the nurture of my soul. But from basking in the abyss, I knew that whatever impulse surfaced was not the same as when it had touched the bottom of it. The sunrise and the waves in front of me. If I were to ever find my true nature, I would have to confront the sea and her unparalleled depths. Whichever between them was the deepest, won. Win? Win what?—you might ask. Well, the ingenuity of never having to take the path of least discord. As I am taking up this journey, I'm not alone; I'm all who came before me and all who will come after me.

I have decided that I am as going to look for her. I don't know were she is. I want to find her, I want to see where she is hidden. She, is me. An old oak tree calls me through the wind, to go towards it in the same way that I would have been pulled to lean in bed after a tiresome day. The tree is there, in all its majestic power and I have no questions to be answered, nor answers to surely give. Yet here I am, in front of his majestic branches spreading up towards the sky. A light comes from an unnoticeable little crease inside the tree and, like the seeker of souls that I have become, I get closer so as to look into it and find out what's past the light and... “Are you lost, young lady?” I hear.

I hadn't seen anyone come along. I might be lost though, but I'm afraid that I am not lost enough.

“Oh, and are you afraid?” the voice adds.

“Of... what?” I whisper to myself. Sleepless nights come and go, along with their voices, and shadows and inspirations and ideas. Hearing words through the urgent dawn, is a perk of not sleeping through the night.

“Of the journey,” it voices. “Where are you headed to, young lady Liv?”

“I... think... that I am on a quest to look for the art of me that's gone missing. She escaped. I'm not whole, sir. You know—”

“That sure sounds funny, young lady! Now tell me, where are you really going? The woods are not safe, it's dark out there. It's populated. It's a hierarchy of facts, and they are transformative. You will not be spared.”

A silence followed, that I wished I had made longer. But I wanted to blurt myself out in hopes of being rebuilt. I was thinking out loud: “She is in places I have never been and in thoughts I had never considered to think, and I don't want to be spared, I'm—”

“Do you even know what you're looking at, young lady?” I was interrupted by a giggly sentence.

“I am not sure what this might be...” I squint as I realise I've been zoning out this whole time.

“Oh trust me, you might want to find out... Your whole mind and the absence of it is hidden in there. The world calls me home,” it said.