Cocoon

February 24, 2001

Such an odd feeling,
edges of my body
indistinct,
center empty of content
and yet somehow full,
energy radiating.
Breath comes
in shallow drafts
panting,
as if giving birth.
I sit and spin
this intangible cocoon
never quite knowing
if I’m mending the rend
in my soul
or unraveling my tether
to solid form.
The fullness is
not hungry, wants
no companionship.
Everything outside of this
I do as if in dream,
the heart of me elsewhere spinning
a web connecting to
another place.