DIRT & BLOOD

 

The trees don't move & neither do you.

The clouds hover patiently, scattered & dark. Auburn leaves lay still against the sandalwood. It is damp.

My coffin rests. 

The fog cascades over the hills, gliding silently & ceaselessly. The grass is wet with dew. You hear nothing. There are no scampering feet of a woodland creature, no footsteps, no life. The wind waits. The earth is still. 

The world is you. 

You're in a forest. The forest. You look down at your feet. They're covered in dirt & blood & debris & all you've carried here with you. The grass & pebbles twist in your toes. You press them firmly against the soil. 

You smile. 

You close your eyes & take a long, slow breath. You smell it all around you, unsure of what it is. You exhale & your shoulders roll forward, back down. Your chest settles. 

You have arrived. 

Where to is a mystery but from where, even more so. Nothing is familiar, but everything is known. This is there & that is here. Everywhere is anywhere. 

The trees don't move & neither do you. 

My coffin rests.