For the soul and its skin..

Illustrator : Akageno Saru 

|{A world was created… palpitating at the edges of its existence, bawling out into the subconscious of the universe… a world was created. Of everything benign in thought and tragic in action. It was created with the sands of hypothesis, with the gait of a steady master but an excitable pupil. It was blank till it was colored. And the colors became the blanks the world etched on its very membrane. It took generations and many universes to fill these blanks.
And what was created out of beauty, out of love began to taint like the ripe throbbing of a heart been turned away too many times. Color – an expression of free spirit and wonder, became a dividing line of bad and worse. Color became the death of oneness, it became the death of unison.
Further on it’s membrane, the world found thin pockets that stretched and tore. Pockets of difference; pockets that loved the world but hated its skin. Pockets that understood justice but didn’t agree with the law; pockets that comforted love but not its gender, pockets that rose from a place of oneness – a place that the world had forgotten existed. The world ate at itself, gnawing away at its skin, creating little tears in its wake.
And so through these little tears the soul of the world started escaping, back to where it came from, back to the edges of creation. And all the beautiful colors began to fade; all the pockets began to tear with ecstatic lunacy for their cage was finally yielding.

So when you feel an ache in your soul, for a difference you haven’t lived but a discrimination that makes your cry and break; a discrimination that makes you question your privilege… Don’t be anxious. Hold on to your tiny heart and breathe in the world, you little adventurer. For you are already halfway across to breaking out of its skin. You are returning to the womb.}