But that text is not done.
Not ready to publish.
Perhaps I weaved too many threads into it, making it more of a mess than anything coherent?
I will let it be, for a day or two, revisiting it to see what it wants to become. What the message really is. For me. And perhaps, for you.
I think I will step outside instead, letting my bare feet meet ground, soil, grass, pebbles, twigs and sticks. Letting the wind blow my hair, the sun warm my skin, the smells remind me of springs of years gone by. Listening to bird-song and rustling leaves, feeling my own heartbeat, steadily ticking away, grounding myself. In life.