It's cold here on this log
In the middle of a forest
It always seems that way
Birds cackling to each other
I hear less now then I did
I hear water far away
Wether it's a raging river
Hell bent on changing its course
Or a softer creek
Trying to love the land back
I can not say
There's multiple paths in front of me
I'd like to think they all lead to the same place
But we all know they don't
It's beautiful here in the shade
The sun lighting up the canopies
It's brighter here than I remembered
There's so few prints on this path
I'm not sure which is worse
The lack of use
Or the large amount of trash
Nature, the sly dog she is
Will take care of it
I'm glad I came here
When the earth as it peace with me
I can be at peace with myself
And no matter what happens this time
I'll be ready to live again