it is this body that holds all that I am.
an envelope that contains me,
defines me,
limits me.
and everything I am is born in it.
but is everything that is born in my body mine?
universes of desires that arise and grow
and multiply,
fleeting or perhaps eternal,
powerful and immense in their power
of disconcerting.
do they belong to me?
desires that are dreams
without flesh
or material density
or geometric contour
or palpability.
perhaps dreams are a concrete reality,
as concrete as the most consistent of
realities.
concrete like a tree or a bridge or a
clothesline or a fire
or a body.
but a reality lacking the senses.
concrete,
but without dimension or volume.
without physical outline or measurability,
just intention and design.
like when you say you want to give me a hug
or a kiss,
but you don't really give me a hug
or a kiss.
my body produces universes of desires,
immense in their power
of disconcerting.
but useless.
what good are dreams
if you can't touch them?
text by Paulo Kellerman @pkellerman
photograph by Ana Gilbert @anagilbert
#innerscape #body #poetry #writing #literature
