I feel this place no longer serves me as I deteriorate, ready to disintegrate. So if I find myself lost to the wood with soil churning beneath my feet, I hope the tall grass entangles me and drags me into the depths of the Earth engrossing me in nothingness, giving in or giving up. Eventually the air will grow cold, leaves will burn and fall with grace. And as they collapse right above me I'll feel grateful I'm no longer alone.