When God thought you into existence, I wonder what was his process? Did he dry out the smile of berries sleeping on vines? Did he trample them into dust before wake? Was their bodies used by earthworms, and crickets? Are their midnight songs still chanting your name? Is your name the Word God spoke in the beginning? Did Genesis begin with your labor? Was the labor uncomfortable. Did you swallow an entire ocean of ether before your water broke? Are there sacred rivers in your veins leading you back to infinity? Is infinity the black canvas behind your eyelids? When you close your eyes, are you revisiting yourself? Did your body with its own orbit? Is this what you mean when you say Word is bond? Is this why the Sun follows you by day and the Moon makes the ocean bow to you by night? Do you kiss the stars with that mouth? Do you hug them before they die? Is your skin the result of their funeral? Does that burning sensation make you uncomfortable? Or does it remind you that death is just a metaphor for evolution. Do you remember many times you’ve evolved? Do you know how many shapes and forms you come in? Do you remember when you made us in your image? Does it feel like the beginning staring back at itself? Is our past present and future aligned? Is this why we see forward from the backs of our heads? Do you know who I am talking to? Do you know that I am talking to you? Do you know that you are talking to yourself? Do you remember me now? Do you remember, now?
— The Process, Tyree’ Barnes (via agapebydesign)