Deep down straight from the roots. Heart. It’s dark, lonely, suffocating. Wonders when will rain fall to soften the soil. When it happens, seeds rejoice. They give the taste of life.

Slowly time goes by. Here comes the plant blossoming. Looking beautiful; light green, soft texture. Like a baby that was just delivered, smooth skin, everybody celebrates.

Grows the plant. Baby. Troubles begin. Shadows from the tree starting to take turns. Changing positions. Leaving the farmer behind being burnt. Unless he changes positions too. Sun rays coming hard from top to the man’s head. Dirt, struggles, work and challenges unfold.

Getting away.

When seasons change, leaves from the tree are lost. Blown apart. Getting away. Unfortunately, life doesn’t get easier. Friends, family, there they are far from the scene. Getting away. Storms. Made them to be. Unbearable, loss.

I’ve lost it. I know. My leaves. I’ve come with faith, hope and love, just like the tree with all promises to be juicy and fruitful. When shrinking it all dies with it; sweetness turns sour.

Life. That’s nature. Losing that touch. Aroma, scent, feelings. It’s part of it. It all gets away. Like it or not, it does fade away. The smile at times, you see yourself losing the sight of it. Future in stages, it does get going.

Getting away.

Early in the morning, striving. I will be taking the next trip back to where I am coming from. Straight back to my roots, where it’s dark and lonely. There has to be a sign when the sun shines. My feelings are getting away. I need to get them back straight away.

Fetching the life that’s meant for me. Grow fond of nature while winds blows, thunder goes strongly fearing. But it doesn’t matter. Burnt on my skin, it’s the seasons heating up, but look, I’m getting away. Leaving them behind, taking turns, falling. Trials and tribulations after the other. Surely I will be coming back, stronger. ‘Getting away’ is done.


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