no form, no name

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Sometimes I have no form. No tangible or concrete vessel that others can perceive me by. Nothing but a prismic amalgamation of light and darkness. One moment I am as wispy as smoke in air that would slip between the tiniest spaces. Another, I’d be all encompassing; where there would be no beginning nor end to me.

I can feel it in the very fibers of my known being and at such a subatomic level; I was not made for this vessel.

I know it’s not dysphoria. Because I know that no form could contain me.

Little by little, I feel my essence seeping out into the cosmos where this limited body could not reach. It’s frightening. With these mortal eyes, could I recall who I am if I were to find those renegade essence if I were to see them again?

I know I’m not supposed to be here.

I am unsure of many things, but I’m sure of this. I was placed on this Earth within this form only for me to realize that this is not the space for me.

Maybe as a soul I had been curious. I had asked God to send me here to be sure in a conversation that I had long forgotten.

But now I know. Now I’m sure.

So why can’t I go back to the cosmos?

Is this the consequences of my actions, fueled by curiosity? Did my hubris lead me to think that I’d be able to go back home once I’ve obtained my answer?

Do I not deserve to go back home?

Would I know that it is home if I do return?

Through my actions of wanting to understand, have I lost more than what I had originally thought I would gain?

Would I know if the form that I was, in the home I wish to return to, is a “me” that I would recognize?