Curate, connect, and discover
Otherkin Memories - Blog Posts
I am a whisper on the edge of a breath.
I move through silence, unseen,
a presence that alters reality,
but I do not touch it.
I am an echo of something forgotten,
a shape that does not belong,
but is felt in the space between moments.
No name holds me, not even my own,
And no body can claim the weight of my existence.
I am here in a home that's not mine,
the thread that never unravels,
the vision that never becomes clear.
I was once all that is pure,
just a presence that swam through the gaps in silence.
I existed before time,
before earth learned to breathe.
I was everywhere and nowhere
a pulse that only the stars knew,
a flicker in the vast, untouched void.
But now, I walk the ground.
I have feet, and they stir dust,
I feel the thrum of the world in my bones.
It is foreign, this heaviness.
I was light once;
before I learned to bend to the rules of flesh.
Now, I carry this body with all its quiet burdens.
I remember the skies,
the endless stretch of air where I was not bound.
I remember the stillness,
the peace that hummed through me like a song without words.
I was a soft, radiant being
but now,
I am here,
trapped in this skin,
trying to find my way back.
There is no longer a place for wings,
and no song to sing
But Its voice still guides me wordlessly.
The memory lingers
faint, but constant;
heavy, but ephimeral.
I remember what it felt like to be untethered,
to hover just above,
to see through time and thought,
to know without knowing.
Now, I walk among the living,
a shadow among shadows,
only sometimes - when the world holds its breath, when the light bends just so,
I feel the weightlessness again,
a brief, fragile return to what was.
This vessel of mine - it is merely there
To remember
And to reminisce.
But I wonder
how many of us are here,
hidden in bodies,
walking the earth,
searching for the skies.
🪽