Chapter Text
There's something of comfort in watching the highest branches and boughs sway in the harsh winds of a warm storm as it blows past.
The older and taller a tree is, the more it sways.
Even the dead trees sway with the storm.
The trees are old and the trees are young, the wind will sway them the same.
Though it is a silly thought, it seems they tell us, whispering in the wind that rustles and howls,
"Keep going, Keep growing."
They seem to speak as I hear the ocean seem to speak through the crashing waves and endless depths,
"Learn of new, Learn of old."
As the mountains speak with crashing rock and distant calls,
"Remember the bad, Remember the good."
They all have known life before me.
They all know me.
They all will know who comes after me.
And still, when a storm comes, the trees will sway high in the branches and boughs.