The woods have a story to tell. From leaves, the green trees, grass to dry leaves, twigs and dead cut tree barks. There is a cycle. A story from birth, growth and finally death to be reborn. Reborn again with freshness of dawn but also with wisdom of previous day.
So I ask the woods with newness everyday and wisdom of yesterday how do I be reborn? Or is it that I am gone stale? not fresh neither dead? Or there is hope? That I exist and grow beyond the stale and decaying…….