Where are you going to go?

Along a route I typically walk stands an enormous, old tree. It’s apparent from its size that it had been spared the axe-driven fate of most trees on this mill owner’s property of century’s ago. The tree is wider, taller, and far more imposing than any other nearby. One cannot help but notice its massive size, but sadly, it is now nearly dead.

Looking worse than ever, with only a few puny leaves barely visible from the ground, its great limbs are scattered in a circle around it. As I patted its bark in appreciation, I thought about all the birth, death, and renewal it must have witnessed in its lifetime. I wondered aloud,

“So, where ya’ gonna’ go?

“Whatcha’ gonna’ be?

“Who ya’ gonna’ know?”

The gray feeling that comes with the death of giant.
The gray feeling that comes with the death of giant.

For I am unwilling to accept that–like any life–one that enormous, that persistent, just disappears when it dies.

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