The thinking that resides in an individual’s
mind reminds me of the hollow tree. Its life,
too, is done and it is only waiting to fall,
inevitably- and oh, so prior to the others. But,
what becomes of that same tree if all others are
of its likeness. The best can be wished, but how
many wishes can be granted. Wishes, but
wistful winds whilst flowers wilt, until they
bloom again and promises, granite all the while
the tractor digs. And the only things that live,
well, the only thing that lives… Is that which
truly lived.
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