I thought April had promised me more than this. But her dark, dead mornings continue to be less than welcoming in this string of seemingly recycled days. Is this spot any different than where I found myself twenty four hours back? I could continue running recklessly, burning bridges, bringing them and all these ties that bind crashing harshly into endless debris. This debris that never seems to settle. I could continue this battle of philosophy and the cluster of false opinion being tossed with me, but none of this has gotten me where I need to be. There is a certain comfort that surrounds as I sit in a familiar place. I know soon enough I'll feel that sweet sunlight on my face. So for the present moment, I choose exile over destruction, deceit, and pretense. I choose to stay where eventually this divine warmth will meet me, and come to my defense.