A Withered Tree

Broken leaves begin to fall from the withered tree, slowly peeling themselves away from ancient branches. The time has come to begin anew through the darkened span of a leafless existence. The rebirth shall rise again as the flowers spring, when the summer birds start to sing.

A lasting moment, a moment at last.
Time has come to put past to past.
Endure the wind, endure the rain,
Forever forgotton empty pain.

Cloakless now, thoust shall be,
Shrouded leaves of history.
Eyes upon the moonlit night,
Darkened solemn eternal fight.

Green divine shall begin to sow,
Upon this day thoust shall know.
A worthy battle of bark and blood,
Washing through a sunlit flood.

The leaves begin to grow as the flowers sprout with the cooling wind blowing east toward the rising sun. A scorching day is upon us, a summer bright shall be grasp with hands of steel and an iron grip.

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