There is light from overhead. And there is full-moon light that leaks through your walls. Light that seeps through...
The sacred excavation of helixed antiquity and brand-newness.
Your every step can’t help but grind riots of inquiry into the dusty dirt.
She, who is fearless, who walks out of the wilderness feral-shouldered and unbroken.
Is it so bad to have the walls breached?
Without it there could be no growth.
Isolation would set in,
The possible would remain impossible.
There is an oceanic pain-knowing, a tide no soul should ever be made to swim against.
This hunger is what is meant to keep our hearts beating.
