2024-06-22 - a contained horizon |2.4|

dream is not a word it knows yet, so this is not a dream but a journey, mother's mind suddenly shifting and swelling up around it and carrying it along to -

something dazzling, something that mother longs for and enjoys (and because it trusts mother, it does not quite try to hide away from the keening thing she names wind, or the halting sense of being able to fall but never doing so)

the first time she brings it with her, it wails with relief to return to its known bounds, to the usual flow of her thoughts

but it happens again, and again, and sometimes after it turns in its inward space and thinks of motion both easy and straining, of wide bright unnameable sights and -

it feels unsated

inward can feel so small