Just, Wordless

What am I supposed to say, what am I supposed to feel, what indeed is this feeling that crumbles my insides and kisses my pulsing glands in a rush of physical excitement, what is this I ask, because I cannot fathom it. The depth of it is beyond words, words which in light of all things in life mean nothing at all, because they cannot express what I mean, what I feel and how the world inside my womb-invading space feels. There is a drumming in me, a pattering of convulsions that grip me to this feeling. What is it? What worth does it have to even attempt to articulate, because the place at which it exists is a place no person other than I can see. And I myself cannot even see it. It is an entanglement of feelings, both physical and emotional, it is an absorbency that floats on the energetic shift that had begun to take place, but was interrupted. It is something that is infinite, timeless and incomprehensible. The intensity of it feels like it has no measure and as though it clings from something past, something present and something unknown. It is semi-magic and semi-nightmarish. And I wish so that I could reveal in expression the feeling it is. But I cannot. So what do I have to say, what do I have to do, what do I have to feel- because it is even beyond me. To feel vulnerable, to feel brave, to feel proud, to feel forgiveness, to feel sadness, to feel awed at the truth of it, to feel. The living energy which vibrates through me with this truth, with this shift, with this new life that now lingers in the place of what was really growing, is exceptional and overwhelming. It suffocates me, it makes me bleed dry with resources, it makes me feel desperate.
When I breathe it in, it feels like rain on my skin- cold and at first, uncomfortable. But then I laugh, because it is something so enigmatic, yet translucently so that it stirs an excitable space in my breathing core. It tickles my insides somewhat and makes me gasp. Because there is nothing I can say, there are no words, it harbours no definition. All the pain and the awful attachments of it, as well as all the liberation and new revelations rapture the essence of this thing in something unknown, unworldly and profound. And yet, it is so simple: it was, and now, it is no more. And that is all. More than that, I do not know what to say. The intensity cannot be measured in any light, the images painted in sleeping heads can never be recreated, because in a sense this that IS, is incomprehensibly not of the world we define. There is no definition, no collective form, and no tangible concept. It is like the soul we know exists, but has no real defined, tangible existence. And in that, it is magic, even when it is hurting and breaking, because there is something to be gained from every extreme situation, feeling, and experience. And so, what am I supposed to say.