Am I supposed to waken
from this rotten slumber,
this dormant period
that feels like death itself;
painfully stirring,
moving with caution,
not feeling rested;
not enough,
not yet,
not ready for rebirth,
nor rising,
not even thinking of transformation.
All I feel is
the need to be still.
No sap filling up inside me,
no buds, no shoots
just dead, old, deep roots,
my old bones in my old boots.
Let me sleep more
and dream of awakening.
To be continued...
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