looming out of the mist;
this angry monster,
demanding to be fed.
I pray the fog of disconnection clears,
or perhaps just for
the courage to step closer,
to risk the wounding of the brambles,
the threat of roots underfoot;
to stand, firm and confident
upon the ground we share;
stretch out a hand, to touch and see
what looms is just the tangled net
of alien desires, threatening
to choke us both; that hidden
beneath the strangling web
there is still life, an echo of my own.
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