Uterus

"Death is nothing to us because when we exist there is no death and when there is death we don't exist anymore." (Epicurus) Calm down, she said. We were almost there and I felt stunned. We passed quickly through the deformed landscape. Was that greenish stain a field? Trees those shapes? Was there really a lake back there? We're coming, she spoke softly, barely audible. The landscape was now just a gray blur, the speed had slowed and I still couldn't breathe or think. It's here, she said, as she became diaphanous, transparent, then disappeared. The landscape was still murky and gray. The cold that invaded everything made me try to get out of where I was, but I couldn't move. It was then that I screamed in fear, realizing I couldn't hear my own voice. I looked up and there was the slab. Dark, heavy, it seemed charged with a monumental and infinite sadness. The world became cloudy and loneliness took me in its arms. My memories were no longer sad or happy, the memories just a quagmire of confused images. And so, because nothing else made any sense, I understood that I no longer needed feelings, meanings, questions, answers. Then a lightness and comfort of unexpected warmth crept through body and mind, thoughts and senses leaving and fading away, one by one. The peace of not being is dark, but it is warm and velvety. Inside the womb, the peace of not yet existing must be exactly the same.