Six months gone, six months on.
These days, I have been contemplating on the bits and pieces lost and stumbled upon this road of discovery.
There are times when things seem amiss, and I feel adrift.
Other times, most of them, I count my blessings for gathering little dots. Although I have yet connected them, I don’t see any hurry to do this, and I will gladly await the time when the connected dots present a line, a long continuous line stretching on, and on.
When felled, its roots get cut off, branches break, leaves fall apart, and its trunk lose all stature and standing.
For a moment, it seems cruel, it seems hopeless.
As time work its magic, nature casts its organic spell. Unbiased to anyone, nature heed a special plan for each and everyone. The tree transforms.
The roots sprawl into a network of another form.
Small branches become homes of birds, dams for beavers, shelters for burrowers.
Larger branches find their way to other homes.
Leaves are carried away through streams, swirling along ripples and bends, embarking adventures their parent tree trunk would never imagine to set foot on.
The trunk regains all respect, returning to the earth.