A congress of ancestral knowledge warn me of their endured mistakes
My blood before me beckons me to open up my heart again. Your loose like topsoil, vulnerable to the elements. Allow my roots to hold you firmly in wake of dusty storms caused by the drought of doubt. birthing hostile insects who desire to penetrate my bark, you seek to break a fragile heart. At the moment of ceasing sounds and dying light, I will burn into my finer compounds without a fight. My nutrients dissipate into you, bonding us once and for all. And perhaps……just perhaps this scorched earth will sprout anew the chosen few birthed from silent violence.