The war is still going on. I am alone at the cold forest with myself. I see no contact. The troops are comin my way, but I have a moment to my self in the silence of the woods. The snow here is pure white. I see a road with endless possibilities. A road that hasn't been seen or been touched by many. A place of solitude in the depth of the woods where trees are quietly breathing life. They tell stories of how mystical man's experiences on earth is, no matter the violence. It is in their nature. It is a way of communication, a way of expression.
The trees sound so old with wisdom.
What my eyes sees is nature at its quietest, where its sounds are heard the loudest, and felt to the depth of your bones. Somewhere to breath life again amid the chaos.
The cold weather brings out the warmness inside the body. I feel it more and more approaching to the depth of my being. I feel like I have to feel it more because I need it and I need my body to cooperate to save me from possibly freezing to death depending on the degree of coldness.
The cold forest and the wise trees don't show any reaction to my pain or shouts or complaints about the cold. They just exist to remind me that coldness exists because its part of life. All things end at some point and there is a new beginning or something blossoming out of the chaos somewhere.
I have to stop thinking....
The troops are coming... the troops are coming....
