From the remains of plants

in hive-185836 •  last month  (edited)

Today I try to think about what to do. Try to find and turn my brain, think clearly by involving feelings.


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The beauty is different
From the perspective of the observer
No one can force to say "yes"
Grow and run at the will of the creator


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A situation where he could only stay under the shade of a large tree that he used as a host
But the tree did not feel ashamed to shelter the mushroom and instead loved it by giving some of its nutrients to the mushroom
I liken the tree to
God or humans who love him so that he feels


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From the remains of trees, you were born because of the illusion in the breath of rain, which made love to a part of fate. making a chance to survive, turning yourself into a kind of past, which is shadowed by the weather and the lines of life. because of the season because of the remains that lie fragile.


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Who can prove that life is lonely, when in one season, you are scattered from life and circumstances. through the gaps of roots, piles of wet straw, you are a curse, because they, with themselves, are as difficult as wavy water.

The remaining essence of the trees, to the remaining rain, everything for you love, you and the weather.

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