Yours. Truly.

The treehouse still stands on the edge of the sound, where the waves crash & tumble and the feathers are wrapped ’round dream catchers of the ancients, that once were lost now found.

They tether their night terrors to the moon to reflect back to us as dreams at dawn, where the last hook is cast over the bow and sinks beneath the surface, now gone.

The surface tension you’ve felt is to prepare you for your final test, when a time comes to jump the fence and leave it for the rest who sit and scour amongst trivial things as you set off for the best.

The East has come and gone like leaves of harvest past, the race against yourself proved to be a monumental score that beat your pace too fast, but as you settle into gifts and accept them all as one, you now move onto the West where dreams are won. Into the vast. At long last, at long last.

Set your clocks ahead for two as we trailblaze their hearts through and through, dancing about the wilderness, aiming at a vision for only you, with guideposts along your way to say, “This or that, it matters not, for only your heart knows what’s true.”






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