A tree torn from the ground became a vessel on the ocean, before being left high and dry on a Spring tide. The roots that anchored this living organism, that kept it upright and strong are now just a twisted mass of dead truncated limbs but this once was a thing of great beauty. She lay supine across it’s lifeless trunk, feeling the still coarse bark pressing into her living flesh, creating sensation long after it's death. Her own feet touched the soft grass and she felt the breeze ruffling her long hair. The wood was warm, heated by the same sunshine that bathed her own torso; life and death sharing the same light; the same energy; the same space and with their limbs intertwined, almost the same form.
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