Following the Next Long Moment

This and all other lives of mine appear to be sprinkled in among the flora and fauna that abound in the landscapes around my confinement. Am I not the one solely responsible for his own imprisonment at his own will in his own house? Is it not since long that I have not trodden upon these dew bathed grass beds in the morning sun?And is not it the melancholy of the last evening there somewhere,that still lingers that lingers on my ear drum? Is not it then again, the next invitation-- the perpetuating lull and pull of your calm green lap to me,as like ever? And have I been ever less reluctant,less reactant to end this stretch of rest under this cool shade so earlier? Forgive me,for I have not yet been able to fume away to touch and kiss the ages old remains of all my stories and histories. I have not yet been able as I am still within the closed wall of some egg shell that is yet to crack responding to some remote call. O' Mom,forgive again, but following the next long moment, I must be born!