toneed.

Maintenance.
Silent keeping of a heart that often forgets to keep beating.

But what was once a 2nd nature seems to have deteriorated in time...

obligation steals away the breaths you're supposed to take.

Here, the gently unsettled place between sleep and awake,
here is where there is recollection of what it is to need.

I was once a brave soul,
standing tall in the face of giants,
slaying them with my sling full of seasoned words and vain repetitions.

Oh, the vanity of words...
the self-importance of knowledge.

I was once a swollen chest,
a proudly pulsing rhythm in a cavernous hull...

resonating like it was full.

Hiding like it was empty.

And so it was.  And so I see.
That what was once a second nature was in truth a learned behavior.

I am a lung that needs the air.
We have hearts that beat without our permission,
without our diligence.

There is no second nature, but only surely what is natural.

I have nothing but to be loved,
and therein be brought to life.

And still I maintain.
Try my hand at machines I don't understand.
Aim to change,
and fall just short of indifference.

Around again, to the same conclusions,
and melodies dancing in my head.

Here between sleep and awake,
gently unsettled.

I need You.
This is what it is to need.