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Gentle turning, I've awoken
to a place that has prodded
awake in me this moment
this sovereign gesture

I can look no further alone.

There are memories, and there are
instances, places we
can no longer get at
roads washed out
paths long grown over

stand strong we must. Stand
forever and guardian before
bramble and brimstone.

I will not fail you. I will not
hold fast in a dying light my
heart will not be seared my
breath will not be taken

I will not fold my self around me,
I've only this chrysalis to defend me
a cushion made of myself.

Gentle turning I've
awoken to a spring I thought
I lost all claim to long ago.

makes me wonder what the author was thinking of....can you offer a hint?

The realization that I'll never, even think only of myself ever again...

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