…the mission

I strain to hear the gentleness of the raindrops on the leaves of the trees

Stretch to breathe in the fragrant air of the approaching storm

Eyes alert to see the vivid streaks light up the sky before me

I wait…for some movement…some feeling…some stirring no matter how faint… Some reaction to the external…

I’m on a mission…a mission to feel…to know without question I am a part of the world that surrounds me

A mission to make my way out of the thickness…the heaviness that is cement…forbidding me to move… To respond outside of these tears

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