an army in the trees

Red sentinels watch over this wooden womb, as breaths taken in fill with sorrow and exhale to unkind frigid air. A hollow place in heart and mind, an empty space once full of life for so long. This weight, though, shall lift one day; this fresh wound will slowly suture shut. And always keep in mind, too: our lives all circles, never lines…there is completion, life will renew.

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