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What seems complete isn’t a completion. For years, I was looking for Mr. Right to complete my body and I had thought God created me out of a part of Mr. Right. I was looking and seeking, dancing and singing. I tried all kinds of forms to be close to the being who potentially completes the missing part of me. I came across myriad souls and bodies, and none of them had ever completed me, though they all entered my body with the will to complete me.
Then, she came along in my journey of finding another half. She completed me without entering my body. I invited her to my soul, we traveled through each other’s universe through an entrance to the black hole. She is the existence of my universe and she is a woman. She is the mother of our world, yet the whole time, we were looking for a father. Writing exercises:
Third Person Present - Philosophical - who is the narrator? Flesh tatters into pieces as it is on the way to completion. Each temporary union with Mr. Wrong tears a part of their being, yet they still don’t know why. Soul is just another word to them. First Person Past - Close I tattered into pieces as I was on the way to completion. Each temporary union with Mr. Wrong tore a part of my being, yet I still don’t know why. Soul is just another word to me. Second Person Past - Detached You tattered into pieces as you were on your way to completion. Each temporary union with Mr. Wrong tore a part of you being, yet you still don’t know why. Soul is just another word to you. |
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