It's time to move on.
It's time to bind feet to words and creep away from the hope of forming beauty out of shit.
It's time to shake off oppression and turmoil.
It's time to embrace the desert... the hard stuff.
It's time to own the truth that fear and woundedness have kept us small and broken.
It's time to name our insanity...
Doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different result.
We're going in circles. We're falling to pieces.
Rivers of madness have pushed us along, buffing away our bravery, keeping us heaving and rolling... keeping us breathless and alone.
If we can't force our muscles to face the current, if we can't fight for the shore, we are lost.
We'll come choking and desperate to the surface.
But it's better than drowning.
It's better than never resisting the old thing, the passive thing.
It's better to be exhausted, caved in and still breathing than to be false.
Find real ground again.
Whatever it costs you,