The world is illuminated by bolts of lightning. Harsher, ruder than ever.
You’re still paying for that apple you bit into when it wasn’t yours to taste. You accept your human nature but the losses pile up, the loves grow weary and those close to you give up. You’re growing older, inconsolable.
You deny the fanaticism of manipulators who thought they’d appropriate the garden for themselves and find your own refuge. Within. You are at long last safe and protected. You become a migrant in your own land.
You wish you’ll be the father as you had wished your own would be. As he didn’t imagine himself to be. As you didn’t manage to be. You’re once again the child you had lost. You rediscover your toys and games. You recall your mother’s lullaby. You go back to the when you had hoped things different to how they turned out. And so, disassembled , naked and brave, the only one who might vandalize you will be yourself. Your new place is hence inviolable. You are empowered by your own universe.
Rest. You have found A S Y L U M