embody

you follow myths as if they are your breath, rising from some primordial space; you wear archetypes and names you believe are your own, as if they are your skins; you pin every smile, every tear, every sigh, to a board, with a tag, as if they are body parts with a reason; you pick up tools to use to mend fences - the ones that first exist in your mind, as if they are the life force coursing through you; you wear them all as if they are a part of you you cannot tear away from, you wear them until you can know and feel that to embody is to putrefy and die, and then live, having died.