He Plants a Seed

The years came in which I was once again forced to discover that a primordial urge dwelt within me myself, an urge that had to crawl away and hide from the bright, permissible world. As it happens to everyone, I too was attacked by the gradually awakening perception of sex as an enemy and destroyer, as something forbidden, as seduction and sin. What my curiosity sought, what caused me dreams, pleasure, and anxiety, the great mystery of puberty, just didn’t fit into the sheltered happiness of my childlike peace. I did what everyone does. I led the double life of a child who really isn’t a child anymore. My conscious dwelt in the familiar, permissible world, my conscious denied the existence of the new world that was dawning. But at the same time I was living in dreams, urges, and wishes of a subterranean kind, over which that conscious life built more and more anxious bridges, because my child’s world was collapsing within me.

Give me a world, you have taken the world I was.

I want to forget that my body is borrowed from dirt.