A Letter To Self

The bird’s chirp is either the first four bars of its song, signaling to all the bitches that they’re still her sons. Or it’s communicating in a language I do not pretend to understand. Either way, it sounds beautiful. It is a sign of good health and wellbeing, a pleasant awakening.  

Yet the elephant remains a sight to see. A clement sight to heed; behold its present might to be. In a room devoid of time and space, it beckons only to that of greed. Deprived of its needs, a creation of its deeds – tell me, what more could you possibly need?  

The pride-filled man, envious in his ways, lives to endure time without mistakes. Behold, a false sense of self he boasts – an act to fulfil this here role. Tell me, what are you afraid to know? Is it love? Is it trust? Intimacy, touch? What are you afraid to own?

What’s making you feel so alone? What are you sad to know? What are you afraid of letting go? Yes, it’s easier said than done, but as you walk the path of discomfort, you’ll see it’s easier said and done. What more do you need to know? 

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