Reverse Stigmata

or

I Y LJ

I've been trying to heal the terrible wound in my heart for a very long time and I went back to the Mountain and looked into my heart and there was no wound. I mean, I looked very hard. I did a lot of naked transcendent breathing and massage in an attempt to coax it out with my mouth as bait. It was not working so I called God to come and help me look: nothing. There were goddesses, shaman, a salty rock of a poet, there was a gender fluid Child of God--these people are mystical and divine, with diamond eyes--and it's almost embarrassing, really--it turns out there is no wound.

My search for What is Wrong with Me took me on great adventures in search of poultices and tinctures and cures; I have lots of serums and can tell the kind of stories that make hurt people smile. It was good times and time well spent and worth the while it took, but now that I know I have nothing to look for, it feels as though I have nothing to search for and there is the prospect of boredom, as I am:

1) Not living in a burning house

2) Not harboring a deep and painful wound

3) Not so different from anyone else.

This is quite an adventure. It's like I was given an extra sense. You know what I said, on the Mountain, as the divinity common to us all was shown to me and moved through me?

Thank you God thank you God thank you God thank you God thank you God thank you God thank you God thank you God