Myths are story patterns that ground human’s spirit and fuel our faith in life. Their human creatures and other beasts and symbols recharge our trust in our beingness. Their presence don’t give explanations: there is no rational reason to be alive. From the nothingness before the beginning of everything come our names and secrets. That familiar unknown gives birth to Mythix.
What your eyes would say if they could shout?
What did you see that everyone should know?
What did you see that nobody should know?
What did you see that makes you hate life?
What did you see that makes you love life?
What trillions of eyes for millions of years have seen
and still refuse to talk about?
The tenderness possible in every gesture
The wonder and the horror lying within every breath
The miraculous
Maybe we need to shut them down to remember.
From where do you come from
when you don’t walk?
Who are you
when you don’t talk?
How does your heart put itself together
when you don’t feel?
How do your hands exist
when you don’t reach?
How does your soul birth
when you don’t desire?
How do you touch me
when I don’t know who I am
To resolve my skin
To release my shivers
To impede my worst
How do I know who you are
when I touch you
Deeper than love
The need to share
the bounty
of innocence
That trust
to discover
Attuned
with nothingness.
EVE PICHER 