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There is a point unavoidably found when although the view grows ever fonder the dirt under your soles turns to stone and the road promises splits no longer. You're compelled to turn over heels to peek: There is no way back yet extends on end; You recognize each tree from root to peak for the solace of shade they'd extend. You can still count the rocks of tougher climb, shiny ponds you filled with sweat, blood or salt, or breezes that eased the steamiest time, through those bulky barks that you groomed from sprout. Either fills of treasure your breathing chest or quicksands you into a hollowed step.
0
Nov 4, 2019
Nov 4, 2019 at 2:47 AM UTC
The crossroad end
There is a point unavoidably found when although the view grows ever fonder the dirt under your soles turns to stone and the road promises splits no longer. You're compelled to turn over heels to peek: There is no way back yet extends on end; You recognize each tree from root to peak for the solace of shade they'd extend. You can still count the rocks of tougher climb, shiny ponds you filled with sweat, blood or salt, or breezes that eased the steamiest time, through those bulky barks that you groomed from sprout. Either fills of treasure your breathing chest or quicksands you into a hollowed step.
chris-yellow
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34/F/Belgium
Nov 4, 2019
Nov 4, 2019 at 2:47 AM UTC
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