These trees spoke to me this morning. Perhaps on most days they are simply trees, not meant to convey any sort of message. But today, they are for me. Today, they tell stories. Today, they tell truth. These floral spires stand at a crossroad between seasons. One clings to the warmth and goodness and life of summer, while the other sings of a new season arriving, the winds of change that will assuredly bring the death of winter but will ultimately invite the renewed vigor of spring. They are trapped in the moment. They simultaneously cling to the past and long for the future.
And here I stand.
Both basking in the goodness of what has been and unsure of the future that approaches. Both fervently clinging to the safety of the known and completely curious about the promise of the unrevealed. Both profoundly content standing at the edge and incredibly inquisitive about the life that awaits if I have the courage to leap.
And here I stand.
I know not what to do.
Both are good. Both are bad.
Both are good and bad.
Both have beauty. Both have pain.
Both have promise. Both have gain.
Both are wrong. Both are right.
Both are easy. Both take fight.
And here I stand.
Ambiguous enough for you? I'll let you know if I come into any clarity.
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