Like the mythic birds of the north, I feel fear draining to my face. I lay, I stand, I sit, I am scared.

To let out into the world, I fear my own failure, my own inability to grapple the impossible task that is my life.

I'm not sure what to write except that I am scared. I want a hug so tight it hides me from the world's aches.

Sometimes, I need to be more like the windy trees. I need to let, as the great messiah, the violent vibrant forces of life pass over me and through me. I must turn and realize they have gone, and only then, absolution.