Somewhere inside me, there is
fear.
It does not
consume me; it does not remember how. I fight it off with the weapons I have at my disposal, and I can hold at back, for the moment. It is there, but I will not look away from it,
I will not turn my back.
At some point, I became too weak to carry my
armour with me. I left it to be
bleached by the sun, and continued on. Now, however, I am finding that the air on my skin is a feeling unknown to me, and it is both
alien and
comforting.
I do not understand what to make of this, only that if I can allow myself to stay where I am, I will soon learn
more than I have ever known.