thisisnomyth (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thisisnomyth) wrote2011-10-14 11:07 pm
thisisnomyth) wrote2011-10-14 11:07 pm
(no subject)
She comes out in the early mornings, the pretty young girl with the soul of a tree. She stands where one of her brothers once stood, closes her eyes and feels the remnants of him, grabs hold of what remains and holds on tight.
She misses him, she misses them all.
She feels the trees falling away, feels the ones that naturally fall and the ones that get struck down. She knows what it’s like to fall, she’s been doing it for longer than you’ve been alive.
But she sti8ll gets up, still grows, still moves on. She is a creature that never stops growing because her brothers and sisters never stop. They spring forth from the earth, slowly but steadily reclaiming it at their own.
And she is a part of the wood, just as everyone else is, just as the lost boys and girls, as the fae and foxes and fire birds too.
Just as I am, just as you are.
She welcomes you, by the way, there’s a sapling growing in your honor.
She misses him, she misses them all.
She feels the trees falling away, feels the ones that naturally fall and the ones that get struck down. She knows what it’s like to fall, she’s been doing it for longer than you’ve been alive.
But she sti8ll gets up, still grows, still moves on. She is a creature that never stops growing because her brothers and sisters never stop. They spring forth from the earth, slowly but steadily reclaiming it at their own.
And she is a part of the wood, just as everyone else is, just as the lost boys and girls, as the fae and foxes and fire birds too.
Just as I am, just as you are.
She welcomes you, by the way, there’s a sapling growing in your honor.