A Kaleidescope of Emotions: Touch.

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And it’s as if my skin has outstretched to behold the capacity of the universe. As if my skin has gone to explore the atmosphere and the deep oceans below, until it habituated me to feel everything.

I am touched by the rising sun every morning; every shade of light a different feeling being expressed— every angle and divergence of colour; the way it colourises my room and changes the complexion of my skin, as I am out there gazing with wandering eyes, sometimes wide open, sometimes closed gently with a smile.

I am touched by the moon in the dark night sky; with every phase I am touched differently, immersed in different sensations, lost in dimensions of disparate thoughts and ideas. I am touched by its serenity and silent inspiration, shifting a mindset with peace and rest, pulsing the mind to let go of its thoughts and revert to a reflection of the day light memories— just as the moon reflects the sun light.

I am touched by words, written in poems and stories. I am touched by the pictures attached to their meanings, the stream of sudden visualisations and feelings whispering beautiful and inscrutable notions ready to be freed in terms of dreams and stories. I am touched by their authenticity, as they leave your head and translate themselves onto paper, adorning my mind with ideals and anthems to sing.

I am touched by your fingertips, on a calm winter night. Touched by their coldness and fragility, as they trace love on my skin. And my skin being so lost exploring the universe for so long has found its home in intimate proximity, where it can be touched by its own counterpart, and it can ease the tension of having to find meanings and answers. I am touched by skin, so directly, that it paints a path all the way to my heart and creates sparks of peace and wonder. It creates this realm of safety— I need not think no more, I need not outstretch my thoughts, I am right here, I am home.

It’s as if my skin is my heart— and I keep wondering why it keeps beating with different melodies at different times of the day. I’m wondering why it takes time to resort to a certainty, instead of losing myself in the obscurity of futures painted with all the different colours of observation. Sometimes it’s too much to bear. Sometimes it’s too much to understand.

I shall then close my eyes as your hands find themselves in mine, for there is unity of touch. A touch defined by touch, and only that. A touch enough to let me sleep and keep the deepest cells of my heart alive, feeding off the light of a safe love.

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