The Holding of the Breath

Holding my breath, as if something is about to happen. Listening intently in the quiet. I dreamt of something terrible, then sat down thinking – to describe it, only one word comes to mind: defilement. Of my world, by something, or someone. A word of warning, a reminder to remain vigilant.

Now to thoroughly examine my course, now to think it all through, again. Everything. From the foundations. Best prepare. A storm is coming. I don’t know who will start the next great war of my life, but war there will be.

The signs are there. A fleeting thought, a hollowness in your gut, your breath strangely uncertain, some unorthodox beat in your heart. Yes. And so the path flows down from the doors of my perception and into the future. I know what must be done. I know how to survive the storm.

By not entering it.


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