maybe it was a book or a move or a birth, but a manyworded thing has been dislodged. a me i had forgotten, a voice i politely silenced. a cry muffled, an image burned.
what i do, i do not do because it is good, i do not do now for a grade, for encouragement, to be recognized, validated.
it is because it is there. it always has been, but my head was turned. perhaps staring out the window or down, waiting for my belly to grow. perhaps in wondernumb at all that i have acquired each with an intricate plan attached, each with a choking string tightening. perhaps at another who i depend on for daily rescue...
but somewhere in it, the fog burned away, veil lifted and i pray now that it lasts, i wonder for the potion that keeps me awake, the hard pebble in my hand that reminds me all is not lost, that thinking feeling searching loving beyond my walls, it is not in vain. it is a command.