As I lay on the forest floor looking up, arms at my sides, palms up, I surrender myself to the nature I do not understand or of the unknown outside this canopy above. Fear. I fear spiders dropping down, the dogs getting lost or attacked by a bear, coyote, or other creature howling in the distance. Snakes slithering over my bare feet.

Branches extended off limbs similar to my fingers at the end of my arms. I feel a connection. I submit to you. I cannot control what is. I take a deep breath beneath the long pines, oaks, and palms and I exhale all the fright. A leaf falls from where it was once secure. It does not hesitate. It twirls gracefully like a ballerina on an endless stage. Floating weightlessly until it lands. It does not fear. It does not end there, for the wind will carry it again and again all the while decaying during the journey. A new bud will have taken its place and renewal and growth begin. Each will fall different than its predecessor and each will inevitably deteriorate being replaced.

 But what of the tree itself I ask? Strong and bearing. Purposeful for reason, unlike the others. Am I the tree? Simple in form but complex in function. Unavoidably I too will decay, providing my own purpose as I get closer not to the end of duty but the delightful return to earth. Fertile continuum, new life, new purpose, no fear.

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