In the bare bones
of a waking day,
I sit.
Still.
War and rumors of war advancing.
Overtaking.

In the bare bones
of a waking day,
I sit.
Still.
War and rumors of war advancing.
Overtaking.

Remember. Somedays the forgotten pieces of life surface. In old journals. Handwritten letters. Conversations.
Pointing out one experience. Leading to memories of another.
Recalling things hidden. Lost in the pace and race of living life on this planet.
Finding stories lodged beneath the years.

Trees. Luminous in the forest. As the dying begins.
Letting go. Piece by piece. Leaf by leaf.
Orange. Yellow. Red.
Beautiful. And certain.
Seasons change.
