to feel the pressure from a dying self
a mimicry, a mask that fades
the pressure builds,
something clings to the mask as it crumbles,
as something else wants to push it away.
the new self is born
the old mask dies
yet that which dies tries to cling to life.
//
I progress down my journey and take the steps-of-growth
the old self fades, but clings to life
fighting its’ own death
yet it must die.
I must take those steps.
Sinking into the flesh, I cling to the flesh
a dying thing.
it flickers and fades and it clings all the harder.
I must lean into the Spirit.
it is life,
true life leads to truer happiness, it feels
ephemeral, wispy, mist
yet it is more
enduring, more real, more true
than any flesh or bone.
Martin Write 