iuliana varodi p o e t r y p h o t o g r a p h y a r t p r o j e c t s
there is an orgasm of the body
when Body dies to itself, frees from itself
and becomes one with the body next to it
with all living beings in the world,
there is an orgasm of the mind
when Mind dies to itself, frees from itself
and becomes one with the space between two thoughts -
silence, awareness, emptiness
there is an orgasm of the soul
when Soul dies to itself, frees from itself
and hears its life, its breath
through each movement of air,
there is a continuous orgasm
of time-space
in which time and space
are continuously dying and continuously
recreating themselves, and all the worlds within.
Post-postmodern version
We met at a public event. We exchanged phone numbers, the same evening we called. He came at my place, briefly told me his life story straight away. I was not much in a talking mood. We made love – or had sex – that same night. We said good night and fell asleep like babies. I never slept so well next to a stranger. We woke up early next day, said good morning and started kissing. I want to feel you inside, I said. Here I am darling, he said and I didn’t even find his words surreal. As if we both so much wanted to enact the roles we didn’t have in our real lives. Real? Was this not real? As he was inside me, I remember a certain kind of awareness flooding my being. As the skin around the top of his penis was rubbing softly, deeply inside my vagina, and the top of his penis was just touching the opening of my uterus, I felt this place where my vagina and my uterus meet, slightly open, yet tight, this non-place, as I like to call it now, this space of complete silence fusing with the other little empty space, inside the hole on the top of his penis, this non-place inside him, the most explosive. I felt a huge silence filling my entire being, like a shared, inner smile.
The Sage: Silence is the pearl of the seer. He swallows it, dwells in it.
Mira: It is time. Let's watch it.
(end of fiction)