nothing about the weather

So I leant on it's branches and faced the horizon.

I think I might have been welcomed by the world and it was fucking excellent to see you again.

Believe what you see as it is, as sometimes what comes across to you is how it's supposed to be seen.

There's little for myself to believe otherwise, and I don't think I want to.
A tree down the street asked me to join him.
I walked home awake, and alive.
I walked home entirely safe, astounded with it's reminder and incredibly grateful.

Now I remember who I was, and what I'd forgotten.

If you were to see what defines what you see as well being focus, has somewhat proved to be true or pure appreciation.

I choose to ignore how monopolised this all could, in a reality, seem, but I'll live on believing.

The tree that lives on the corner.

I will keep on trying.