The strong winds of change blew in and knocked my favorite tree to the ground. A mighty oak... sent down. Out in the cold I was, tears frozen to my cheeks. The earth spoke in the subtle tongue of silent information. The backdrop of the sky more open than ever. The great canopy of shade... the songbirds home... no more. Yet being a rambler the songbird was no stranger to.
To grow, some limbs must sever. But the whole tree? It showed no apparent signs of rot, and bared the fruit of continuos musing. The Earthly provisions of sustenance and wonder. The pain of change, the joy of possibility... deep love rewired in the mind. This tree we used to climb.
The heart remains.
Mourning the loss of what was. The acorn, the tree, the skyline. You and me. Vines intertwined now unwind. Though now several chords of wood to warm a home. Loss is gain. The resourceful hearts of dynamic uncertainty.
The muse of moments and memory, uprooted... hallowed black hole of potential birth.
Music starts giving sound to the mossy ground, the joys, the pain. The effervescent moment remains. Resonating, pulsating and dripping. The inertia now ascends. I lend myself, perpetually crucifying my identity to fulfill some invisible beckoning. I'm here standing alone, with everything.