Contain it not

I'm awoken in the middle of my sleep by dreams. Intense ones involving close people in my life, and the theme lately is home. I wake up shaking from many of them, some of them put me face to face with my deepest fears and most unhealed pains.

I struggle in Spring, often feeling not ready yet for the ice to melt, for my hybernation to end, for my wounds to be exposed.

The resisting holds little power against the fixated change of weather and turn of seasons, and I succomb. In my succumbing, a volcano of tamed emotions erupts, and I find myself swept away by the essence of my own existence; a passion that I could never fully fathom, only trying to integrate it in this very cold and squared so called civilized existence.