It is the old struggle between the head and the heart; between the flesh and the spirit, and as the first is only resolved by yielding to faith, the second is only resolved by dying to self.
There is a redemption. Greater thanks, then, for that day, when this box will not restrain me through one more sunrise, and this longing for kinship, it will be satisfied.
Kinship is an entity and I did not realize it.
Without The Kinship, you cannot understand. You are dumb. You can only speak the language of your kind, and the door your soul longs to pass through is shut tight.
I keep the night watch.
In my dream, my soul tumbles out of its box. Free, it is light. It shines. It can mingle and shimmer with a myriad souls, like the Milky Way. In my dream, my soul frolics like a kit fox with its litter mates. It summersaults like an otter in the water. In my night watch, my flesh becomes transparent, like the Monarch Butterfly’s Chrysalis just before it breaks open, and through it the colors of my wings glimmer in the promise of flight.
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