Alone in the early morning mist i walk naked through the trees. Dead leaves crunch under my step. A sound I'm sure my heart understands, a shattering tearing sound of a broken leaf. With the weather on my body i am cadged by the freedom be for me. I am not a tree and i can not grow were i stand. I must walk upon the dead leaves one shattering step at a time. But like i a tree i can be cut down and my leaves fall and die. My dead leaves are a path trough the trees, they tear out a route of a insane circle. At the end of my walk in the trees the only clue i was there will be the dead leaves.
