2021/12/16 #poetry To find a spot so wretchedly comfortable that nothing other than growing roots will suffice. This is a dangerous tendency that we carry. Once you've found a nice little cozy pad, everything outside of it seems impossibly far away. Too cold and harsh to dare to brave. Or too hot and suffocating to bear to encounter. Once your body is perfectly held, as if suspended in air, not a mote of effort expelled, you'll find that you'll have trouble summoning it when you should. Why bother, each muscle cries, the needs of the mind can't compete with the needs of the body, all met and holding on to perfect satisfaction. When this bed, or chair, or grass in the sun is all you feel you've ever known, and it's hard to tell if you remain awake or have drifted into dream, you'll learn to crave this feeling, seeking it again and again, wondering how anything could disturb the perfect harmony of the world you breathe in.