i find myself so entrapped in the negatives of this world that i fail to see the positives
the beauty in a growing plant,
or a dying beast.
the beauty of a book-
once a tree, standing tall, creating homes for all sorts of things,
then cut down, chopped up-
turned into paper.
and upon it printed beautiful words, telling of worlds far away-
and characters so real they could've stepped out of the pages.
isn't it so beautiful how one thing can become an entire other world?
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