Gnarled roots. Twisted bark.
Branches tangle amongst themselves
In their circuitous search
For the Sun.

Nights like this
Restless discontent
Is more friend than enemy.

Without that pain,
That soul searing agony,
How would the heart learn to love?

Worlds, beautiful and turbulent
Within and without
Are unfolding to some high destiny
Beyond the black smoke we see
On the horizon.

Just have to make it through.

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