The lasered edge of night and the neon glare of being seen. Social media has died on my bones and its final gasps heard through my ribs.
A strange cage.
I’ve tried again and again to tear myself from its gaze, and finally-finally I just removed it from my phone. It only exists on the desktop now, a simple tool to look at occasionally. The desktop- its poisioned fruit. Its hooks like daggers no longer in my brain.
I won’t participate anymore. I may delete it entirely, but it sadly makes networking happen in the world. I may just do it anyway. Time will tell.
I’ve explored ways of undoing its damage.
Physical books to read.
Paint and paper.
Moments of nothing.
I don’t need the neon glare. For most of my life, I did not have it.
I don’t need it now.
The soft and tempered weight of the pages of novels
The slow and kinder moments in between the motion of earth.
Anyway Here,
the owl window,
out to sea.
The mountainous vistas. the dreaming stars.
I find solace in days of quiet. Beneath the surface, swirling stories. But they don’t need immediate entry. They are, I trust, already here for me.
After this year I have forced myself to shut down. I don’t think I have a choice.
And so, the trees, the sky.
Wooded groves.
I am looking forward to a new year. Portals have opened, old and ancient stories have ended.
Opening the blank pages I see glowing. Acorns, antlers, frogs under stone.
See you soon and may kindness, justice, empathy, and compassion be our sword and shield in the months ahead.
The Groves of Protection have arrived.
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