Curled up in a tiny ball,

breath pressing against muscles and bones heavy with the weight of not knowing.

The voice trying to find its footing,

wanting so desperately to be guided to its answers by the outside,

knowing it must dig deep and mine its own direction authentically from within.

In between each sigh,

a tear drops to the floor,

the only sign of motion

in this otherwise still

and down thrown body.

The simultaneous fullness

and emptiness

pulling at its core.

To be all

and

nothing.

Not afraid

to be afraid.