Like For Air

I need to find a deeper way to engage this soul or it will shrivel and die of atrophied heartache. The wings are budding and their early ache threatens to spawn into a ragged fire raging throughout my soul. There's a need I cannot name, yet I'm too tired to pursue it. But I need it, so I need to, find my way, into, deeply, before something precious about to be born dies. It has nothing to do with recognition or fame. This is no mere ego device to elongate what can never be stretched. It's a need, like for air, for water, for a basic commodity, a non-negotiable substance.

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