If there was a self to return to in this ever-shifting existence, a familiar center, like a bonfire that I could create in the wilderness, I’d gather sticks from the forest and set them aflame, then I’d chant my own name as I walked in a semi-circle clockwise, opening the channels to that realm of altruism that I romanticized as a growing girl. I’d remove the glasses from my failing eyes and focus my gaze upon the center of the flames, where they burn most intensely blue, and I’d cleanse myself of you, I’d travel in reverse to in -utero realms before my virgin skin was ever touched. I wouldn’t yet belong to anyone, and my lungs would breathe in liquid. At this moment I’d emerge in ethereal form, and float upwards to a different planet, one that I could consciously inhabit without any knowledge of anything on earth, I’d experience a rebirth more profound than any human mystic could fathom. I’d have no reason to be heard or seen, it would be serene and cosmic, the stars would be beacons leading me to my real home, a place where the word “alone” was not part of the language, where there was only thought without words, because communication didn’t require a vocabulary to be understood. I’d meet the true soul at the center of this raging fire, then I’d cease searching for comfort to eradicate the agony of my ego which burned through this mortal being with a death desire. I would not have to worry about hurting anyone by leaving, because there is no such thing as grieving the unknown.