A tiny little me, sitting inside my foot, looking up at myself.

Close my eyes, make myself small, sit inside my feet and look upward, inward.

Look at the packaging from the inside, review the contents. Begin with the feet and remember the path traveled through the grooves, the blows, the marks, the dances. Move through the joints and bones, review the perfect mechanism, revisiting the stories, the fluid moments and the stagnant ones.

There are races, rattling, fractures; in the flesh there are cramps, scars; there is countryside and there is town, just as there is street and there is city. A pair of stakes firmly planted with deep, prolific roots that have spanned continents and carry their ancestors. Each step leaves a generation of footprints and speaks for multitudes. Rootedness is what gives you firmness and stabilizes flight.

Inner recognition at the center of the body is a strange succession of sensations. Impulses were answered; the fire was relentless. Vital energy is volcanic and capable of overflowing oceans; the appetite was satisfied and one came through unscathed. The years change impulses; one can always redirect and change strategy, rowing with tactics may shorten the distances or at least allow you to enjoy the journey more.

Now in the torso the dwelling expands: self-flagellations, neglect, abuses are remembered. Literal, unconscious organic self-sabotage. Strength becomes conscious and, therefore, steadfastness is thanked; perhaps something must be attributed to good genes, or perhaps it is just another coincidence.

Here I am now, in the vital organs, and it seems I will remain for a long time. I confess that recognizing the stomach, esophagus, liver, and kidneys was extensive, and the repairs will continue. Breathing deeply, breathing cleanly is like massaging the lungs; inhaling, holding the air allows you to hear the heartbeats; exhaling, repeating the circuit increases the resonance of the cardiac muscle. The inner ear synchronizes, the journey becomes even more exquisite, and the process is fully embraced.

It seems that self-love consists in recognizing the dragon, defeating the dragon, and continuing to be the dragon. If so, I must continue feeding my profession as a pyromaniac; I must make myself invincible to fire.

For now, I return to the silence where the pulse resounds, touching and stirring the soul. I believe that at last I am beginning to get out of my head.