Like a rabbit that enters a burrow, that sees and feels clues, the hints and suggestions one by one, before they all come together in realization, that this isn’t a burrow. It was built, indeed constructed by something else. It panics and flees, deeper. The air gets heavier. It feels fear, and the depth of its construction.
This is an ancient hole, one that came about, and still comes with realization. The hole is fear itself. It is the kind of void; that is most specifically shaped, it initiates and completes its own circle.
There is no way from it but through, and the promise of light on the other side. Somewhere along the way, the rabbit must find itself an area to re-burrow, re-enter, to construct its own path, channel a new river. Most likely through the new hole, a new fear, there’ll be, some kind of new genius or realization.
Although many holes have already been dug, written into. But there is light on the other side. Even when it comes up into the night, the constellations fall away, and the nearest star unpacks itself.
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