In a moment of growth, I watched you sit and birth the most beautiful of spirits, It was you and your hope.

In a moment of hurt, you were so still and alone, I watched your spirit try, again and again, your hurt was stretching glass, these beings were you, they were tears and they were your fear, they comforted you then quickly flee, their time seemed short and would illuminate around you, I think I was in awe.

But your spirit is a loop, It reaches out from a garden into the wood where it burns out into ash and wind. At the center of this herd is you, so full of love and care, so much more distant than I remember.

This loop is a cocoon that I look out at you from. the center of this garden wakes me before anything emerges again.