And slowly the moon came back.
Bright in the treetop night.
Shadows I could cast again
in cold clean light.
The fear didn't vanish.
But it loosened its grip.
And I started to feel
the difference between
a man protecting himself
and a man
slowly becoming himself again.
My heart was gold.
My feet were right.
I understood then
that closing myself was not survival —
that building walls from old wreckage
and calling it wisdom
was just the cage
with a better name.