A Liturgy - 6 The Understanding
The Understanding The sideways motion carried no friction. It was the speed of a thought travelling through a mind that had stopped resisting. Beside me, your silhouette remained a fixed absence, a perfect hollow in the rushing dark. I wanted to reach inside that hollow. I wanted to pull a name from it, a history, a logic that could explain why my feet had found your wood, why my breath had crystallized against your shadow. The desire left me as heat, rippling outward through the silver root systems. There was no distance left to close, so you answered with a sudden change in your density. The hollow of your shape pulled at the edges of my intent, inviting my search. A wave of profound, ancient fatigue rolled out from you, passing directly into the deep chill of my marrow. It was the weight of a stillness that had waited for infinity just to be caught. You did not want to be understood. You wanted to be met. You wanted to cease being a solitary depth in the empty black. Our desires coincided, perfectly mirrored in the dark. I wanted to know you, and you wanted to be known as the space that held me. The sideways rush slowed. The open face of the weightless dark began to curve, bending inward until the horizon closed into a perfect circle around the space we held together. We had become a single, dense point of comprehension— an understanding made of nothing but the absolute lock of our pressure against the quiet.
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