I seem to have forgotten the warmth of the sun

12.02.45
What consolation have I like theirs, they that have been welcomed into the bliss of the Virus' dreaming? Who am I anymore to defy it, what am I anymore that I have held out thus far when such sweetness and peace would await me if I would merely lay my burdens down...
I resist. How much longer will I? I cannot deny that what draws me as moth to flame is as tangible as anything I've ever felt. I cannot pretend that it is not dragging me down. Might there be some trick to this, some clever riddle at the heart of the matter that, if I only transgress this self-enforced resistance, might allow me waken on a richer, more perfect life...
...Submit, and be redeemed...?


Contents of this document are © 2002 Kim Kondratieff.