My spirit weaved through the trees. I felt myself leaving with December. If all my faith had the power to carry me home, I’m not sure where it would take me. I think Jesus knows my heartache, I hear he’s great at listening- I just can’t bring myself to say anything. This is where my heart tugs at my brain. It’s where my spirit seeps out and everything starts to fade. The bad parts were still wonderful, you know. The laughter. The comfort. The chasing of everything that made me feel whole. But when I’m torn to pieces my spirit knows that it must go and find a way to restore itself. It always comes back. It always comes back. It always comes back. What if this time it finds what it’s been searching for? I hope it writes a good story for everyone to know and love. Let it get lost in the thicket we roamed in our dreams. Float high above the trees. Find warmth in the darkness . I hope it finds the home I could never give it. -AMT ©️