A tree.
Clean slate now. All is new.
A tree, alone in its field.
No more boundaries or inhibitions. Just a willing acceptance of the inevitable.
A tree, alone in its field, singing.
No more right or wrong. No more fear of uncertainty.
A tree, alone in its field, singing sorrow from its leaves.
Clean slate now. All is new.
A tree, alone in its field.
No more boundaries or inhibitions. Just a willing acceptance of the inevitable.
A tree, alone in its field, singing.
No more right or wrong. No more fear of uncertainty.
A tree, alone in its field, singing sorrow from its leaves.
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