We think it's in the protection:
above, the vast canopy called Sky;
then we want freedom
when pervasive is intrusive
and seek shelter
Searching, we expend lives. Rain
finds a way in, we run seeking new.
We think this is unique,
then neither vast not endless,
but blobs floating in space:
it is in the beauty of illusion; then
disbelieve, hopping bruised on.
Neither in protection nor in freedom
nor in anything other;
Under the canopy again,
up on a hill, until
buried deep somewhere in us,
we see, it was there, all along,
and we grow up.
Next up in the #Hermit series, this one is about finding Love, and growing up - and yes, that's Love with a capital L, finding which alone makes us grow...
.
