I’ve dwelt in the dark of self-pity. nests of entitlement woven with blissful blaming. swaddled in judgment allowing no criticisms, I’ve hidden. while outside life calls relentless, birds in spring cacophonous: “we are renewed and so shall you be, hark and hither and make haste!” an incessant urging, a promise. this sordid refuge no longer serves me solace. reaching out unsteadily heeding, dragging myself into the fray, wondering shakily, approaching revival. the world requires conscious, necessary, heart-rending entanglements. much is asked: there is much to gain. the time of hiding is ended.

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