So elusive. So finite. Used to describe a world so broad in emotions, colors and meanings. As I think back over the last year and a half, before that to when I was still living with my family. Memories so sharp and painful; stained in blood and pain. Seeking for a language more dramatic, more encompassing then that which we've cultivated. I remember how the fingers dug into my shoulders, my fathers' vengeful, spiteful words stabbing into my soul, telling me i was guilty of his sins. The bruises, the tears that I've shed can't be explained by word, that I can understand what happened. To understand what identity I have, why the Ego doesn't agree with who I am, doesn't allow my Id to fly free in the wind. So I ask the Universe, the essence of the flower and heat of the sun, to melt away my mask. Leaving my bare soul vulnerable to a soft whispered prayer, to not be concious of thought, of right or wrong. To not worry about the concept of having been pained. To encompass all of me, my joy and pain, to leave the scar tissue in the dust.