Find me in the woods.
There's just something about long stretches of tall trees with sun beams peeping through spaces in between. There's just something about dry leaves crunching below the feet as I walk through the woods. Like juvenile wishes and dreams that die a natural death, the leaves I crush below my heels have died naturally from seasons unfolding. The roots of the trees make the soil believe in bigger things. And so the branches dare to touch new heights aiming at the blue skies. Maybe they know what growing up means. I love the forests that are so wide and green. So full with life, yet so silent amidst the hills. Sometimes the noise breaking through the empty, cold air is that of birds, wild animals, tamed human souls wandering, and wandering. Hoping to never get back to concrete mayhems. But life goes on. And forests are left alone. But like I do, most do too, carry a bit of the woods in our tender hearts. A thing so huge can be destroyed by a simple jungle fire. Just like all things ...