这里, knowledge crystallises.
Not as ideas, but as density.
It offers what has been distilled –
not as instruction,
but as presence.
If Earth has a body, her soma is metal and mineral –
veins of ore, stones pressed into darkness,
matter that remembers heat, 压力, and time.
Condensed alchemy.
Closer to gravity.
Patient with weight.
Unrushed by meaning.
Our somatic wisdom is not polite.
It is animal wit, street-smart,
a knowing that arrives before language.
It lives in texture and temperature,
in recoil and attraction,
in the way the body leans, 打开, softens, or refuses.
Soma penetrates to the core
while shielding what must be protected.
It cuts.
It holds.
It endures.
It is attached to the flesh –
to muscle tone, tissue, breath rhythm,
to the limbic hum beneath conscious choice.
Older than thought.
Older than story.
Soma anchors,
It does not convince.
It waits,
until something true arrives
and the body moves.
