The Feeling
The Feeling
It begins—
a tremor beneath thought,
a rumor of motion
through the bones.
This flesh remembers
what the mind forgot—
a door unlatched,
a heat before language.
I move,
or am moved,
by something older
than my own name.
— kenne
The Feeling 2 comments
Moving indeed, like time that doesn’t exist.
Tone, thank you.