Wednesday, March 11, 2015

molting

Suddenly, he wished to examine the grass with honest fascination, to hold each blade wholly in his mind.

He had spent too many years a passenger, driven by half-truths and malformed ideas and demon rum and worse. He was too long stretched through liminal spaces. Clarity evaded his search through the thick glass of empty bottles.

Though now, under the summer white sky, he faced the world anew. Each alien breath filling his hungry lungs sent nervous volts through his gut. Each awkward and frightening step forward garnered new momentum and the faintest echo of meaning.

It was a walk in the park on a sunny day. It was the first step through the threshold into a new mode of living. He was shedding his skin to find his final form.

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