imagine a baby,
learning to crawl
discovering that movement is a form of asking
the carpet is just there— unknown
textured, constant, unquestioned
the baby finds an outlet
a small, dark opening
silent, an abyss of exploration
familiar in its stillness.
it reaches.
filanges enter the hollow
like it’s something to be filled.
it doesn’t know.
not yet.
not everything open
is inviting.
not everything hollow
wants to be held.
but the body remembers.
even if the mind
hasn’t caught up.
dopaminepatterns 