and i have died many times; like trees who’s leaves have fallen in the first frost of fall. i fought through storms that flooded my roots where i drowned in desolation.
but how unfortunate it is for me to have still grow flowers in spring, like how sunrise ascends from the ocean- to have a soul who continually flourishes through seasons- through the deaths, through the killings, and through grousing falls.
although my roots are clutched tightly to my ground, how fortunate it is to me that each time, its clutch weakens its grip in each passing seasons.
and you will see a tree that have survived different frostings of fall,
is left with only trunks in the next rising of the spring.
