the sent of waist.

Certain emotions are much too grand for mere words to grasp, there the ones that, for the time in which they invade you, define who you are.

I stretch my steps, the moment that gracious tree catches my sight, and to my surprise, it hasn’t changed a bit, oh how much I have changed, and it stays the same.

And I recall the days of my youth, when I use to spend numerous hours of the day, lying underneath it, shielded from the terrors of the world, as the sun shines upon my face, I would drowned within oceans of endless dreams.

And now, in the last of my years, as I count whats left of my breath, and all who use to hold a place in my heart, has, as Shakespeare likes to say, shifted off this mortal coil, I am left with non other but you, my dear old friend, spreading your branches up high, awaiting my return, holding an embrace with my name on it.

It is quite frustrating, the loss of the days of my prime, I spent them not in fulfillment my dreams, but in a war, against my own brothers, oh these men and there guns, there pride, and there pride in there guns, lying on the ground with your own brothers blood on your hands, what there to be proud of?

I approach you “we have grown old dear, havent we?”

And I sit below your ever so thick leaves, the sun shines upon my face once again I open a book…

And for one last time, I sail.

I sail into my long abandoned dreams, the remnants of the past taste bitter sweet, I am young again, we are young again, I climb mountains ,and sale seas, my youthful figure never grows tired, never weary.

I recall my dreams of being on top of the world, the young man within me breaks his way out, and discovers, that decades later, the old man sits, at the same old spot, helplessly dreaming, the same old dreams.

I am shielded, I am shined upon.

Nothing has changed.

How comforting.