Landing, implanting, and burrowing: are these motions of our embryonic selves not the processes of our lives?
Everything, a whole future life, hinges on this moment of contact.
It is a lunar surface only because it is dark and dreamlike. Our first home, and we enter it with a 'universal password' that suppresses our genetic markers so that our mother's immune system will accept us, who her body awaits, has always awaited.
Her body has been primed for our signal, long before she was even born, the receptors for our entrance were instilled within her warm and moist and soft and nourishing interior.
She knows we are here. We are in deep communion.
On our voyage into life, we have been a fertilized egg, a zygote, a morula, a blastocyst, and now, an embryo, and, in two months, a foetus, and, when we are born, a baby.
The end of this journey only the beginning.
Sheath of feeling. Words groping to touch air.
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