Stone Circle Love me as though there were no tomorrow

Blind and deaf, the little boy was not yet privy to understand the deep rumblings that quivered through the milk giver's frame. One day, he would rumble like phrases, words, and ideas. Yet today, and for many days to come, he knew only this: that there was something quieting in the rhythmic shake, something else that reminded him of the safety of the cocoon he no longer found himself in.

Lulled by the vibrations of his mother's voice and of the heartbeats of the two warm bodies pressed in their own rhythms against his sides, the boy's kneading grew slow and his teeth lost purchase on his mother's teat. His face slipped and he tucked his forehead against the softness of her underside instead, adrift in a calm and steady rest, content, now, with simply feeling.