The forest is where you breathe.  Finding broken branches, crumpled needles, your clay crumbles in the natural dirt.  You decompose with the rings of the trees; water and air melt everything into calm agreement.  Standing, you see this: that the trees stand where they always will.  Friends have uprooted, but the trees will stay until their soil gives way and they tip.

The sky above you remembers and goes with you too.

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