Let's call the very essence of our living body, Sinister.
And Sinister has no concept of morals.
And that's why our lives can be a nightmare all the time.
Sinister can not tell children and adults apart.
An equal thirst for all living flesh.

I watched you growing from afar.
The distance doesn't blur what I see.
I've watched storms strip your leaves,
branches fall at my knees.
Fruit wasted.

New buds have sprouted,
stronger than the ones last year.
The leaves from those buds flourish.
Broken limbs slowly grow back,
if at all.

Yet you grow taller, stonger.
Your roots dig deep,
making precise calculations to say hi.
You invite me to build with you.
A treehouse, safe in your limbs.

I prune you.
You feed me.

There is this rare forest, she is beauty
She is hard to explore.
So lovely are her many roots;
Rare are her gems of vulnerability.
One need not dig deep.
You only need to be true to thyself.

She is a rare forest.
She is like water for your soul.

Play. Pause. Rewind.
Play. Pause. Rewind.
Play. Pause. Rewind.

So tiresome are the days.
So full of effort in a sober daze.
Sinking into a manic craze.

Play. Pause. Rewind.
Live. Cry. Repeat.

I'm afraid of drowning.
So I don't swim
and claim I don't know how.
Yet here I am,
Daring to blissfully swim in you.
Wishing to drown in your grace.
Longing to be waterlogged
in all that is you.

Nobody save me.
I'm safe here.
I'm home.