she who must do whatever the fuck she wants

just. because.

This. Feels. Good. I move through life with a nourishing undercurrent. This feels life giving, beautiful. I move with my attention on desire and so I move as desire.

I have no obligation; I choose. I want to move through space this way, as slowly as possible, with the most delicious, nuanced precision. I feel every drop of strength, power, aliveness, coursing my body, and I want it.

I want to know what I am.
I do know what I am.

I move in such a way that time ceases to exist, and only rhythm, pulse, breath is left. I move like I have nowhere to go, nothing to think about, nobody to impress, nothing to accomplish, because I want to be here, experiencing the unfolding.

I remember there is nothing to fix.

I become curious, and then, more curious, and then I am swimming in a honeypot brimming with vitality. I move as deep, unfurling presence, eyes open, fingers, toes uncurling, breath settling in the bowl of my pelvis; my soul mission: inhabiting my body and this moment as fully as possible. I am enveloping and enveloped by life . Life blooms within and through my physicality. I are sensually alive. All senses online; I are tendrils of sense receptors, a honeybee rolling at the center of a flower, an octopus delighted by each and every grain of sand, a tree dancing and swaying and singing with the breeze, a sense, a response, an opening.

I feel life moving me, moving through me, moving as me. My movement through life makes no sense according to the intellect, yet the unfolding is pure joy, pure beauty, pure essence.

My essence follows no formula. Abides by no rule. My essence is the emergent process that flows through me.

I want it this way. This free. This flowing.

I am the precious gold bowl the nectar spills into, spills from, never empty. Petals of peonies drenched in honey, peonies blooming through ribcage, tickling me open, trickling with nectar, thick, sinuous, threads that pull and give, rich and sweet amber balanced with subtlest hint of acid that hits the tongue and spreads the flavor to every edge, just enough.

I am sated, here, in the senses.

It is simple.

I move for no reason other than my desire to feel alive.

I want it, and so it is.

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