The only confined space is the limit of our thinking. It's a reluctance to release old notions. It's the insecurity we use to grasp the past that binds us and blinds us. It's the fear of our fear, a spiraling undertow pulling us distant from what we need to see. It's a self sewn straight jacket, a padded room we've built of inbred notions that lead to a choice not to live according to a voice that speaks only in love.
End this dull slumber.