Day 14

There is such a thing as overgrowth
where the chaos of the green grassdainty lavenderbush of mintunexpected nasturtiumhedge of rosemary
muting everything beautiful, everything individual, perfect wholes into complete, utter, madness.
The overgrowth can choke one’s voice but has the potential to manifest a choir. It can stifle progress and pit other achievements right against our own.
There is no concentrated self-care in the overgrowth; survival is the primary objective.
There are no mirrors to check progress or indulge in self reflection.
There are simply pockets of harmony in a coat of discord.
Freedom is just over the gate.
One more hurdle, multiplied by infinity.
Just there. Just there.
When we overgrow our pots we itch to get out. When we overgrow our fields, we crawl, one on top of another, fighting for room we can take up.
When we overgrow in life, surrounded by a cornucopia of ability, benchmarks created by arbitrary decision, goals appropriated by the masses in pursuit of success, we close our opening.
On the surface beautiful, but a tangle of emotions, crowded feet, pushing against everything, longing for
to set us free.

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