It feels as though a heavy weight is resting upon my chest.
Suppressing my breaths.
My mind can't comprehend what is, and what was.
The fingers of my memory reach to find meaning, but nothing accepts their hungry grasp.
There is reason, but it isn't tangible.
Leaves fall and disappear.
Snow blankets the earth, but melts after the sun returns.
Grass is matted, but soon sprouts new; as do leaves.
Soon they fall again and time keeps passing.
...I still feel weighted and I still pray to be free of it.
-H
Hunter I love this. You are such a wonderful writer!
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