“I am not mad.” Then how have we forgotten our jovial beginnings, times wrought with youth, with love, with energy, innocence, and with life? The young sapling looked so promising, too. Blotted by those cursed clouds of apathy. Even through this disgusting haze how can we overlook those moments of ecstasy where two hearts beat earth‘s most primal rhythm. When flesh enveloped flesh and when beads of sweat flowed along that blissful topography, inevitably reaching its crescendo of carnal beauty. We breathed that stale air together, and it became our peace, our fleeting palladium. And some how we have overlooked the symphonies we made with the brass, the strings, the woodwinds all harmonizing into one masterful piece, our song of hope and of life and promise.


I can still recall the passing seasons and with them came our growing love. And as Autumn enveloped Summer, love enveloped infatuation. The leaves were turning and so were we. I’ll admit there was a bit of restlessness but that added zeal. Sated with ourselves we grew, malignant at times, but we always were self-pruning.

But, it seemed as we grew and our flowering branches unfurled we were crushing ourselves with our own weight. Like a tree whose trunk is not tenacious enough to bear the arduous load of its own limbs. In short, We were willowed.

Eventually our sagging branches gave way. They snapped, quietly. Slowly each branch came tumbling down cracking every one along the way. And now here we stand, our eyes laden with tears, scrambling around these felled branches trying to make sense of it all. We must now decide, with open minds, with open eyes, and with open hearts, whether we must begin picking up the pieces and begin to replant and to re-nourish or whether we should just toss the bark into the fire.