Drawing down, down into a narrow circle, my thoughts flickering around my own heart like a moth around a porch light. Sometimes it takes all I've got just to sit still and talk with myself. Not much energy for the rest of the world. Out there, unseen beyond the blank reflecting windows, the surf soars and pounds in the dark. All that cold, restless weight battering the rocks.
Still, you know: no way out but through. "I have set my life upon a cast, and I must stand the hazard of the die." You asked if I ever thought about turning back, and I said, honestly enough, no: I never have.
Gently, now. Lay me down to sleep and wait for dawn. In the quiet, I do think about you all. I feel your wings brush past me, or the wind of them. It helps.