Green.
Green everywhere.
Choking the vision.
Swallowing the air.
Out there… in the distance…
The trees aren’t trees.
They are tall, dark silhouettes rotting in the shade.
Look at the figures.
Shadows dancing in the glare.
People moving like clockwork toys.
Voices echoing into the void.
The stillness is heavy.
The quiet is a weight.
A curated peace.
A manicured silence.
The sounds.
The echoes.
The distant calls.
They don’t feel like peace.
They feel like static.
A sudden sharp noise breaks the air,
It cracks the surface.
It leaves a mark.
Eyes scan the horizon.
The grass.
Vibrant. Too bright.
Everything is too sharp.
Everything is too loud.
The scent of the earth fills the lungs.
Some call this a sanctuary.
Some call this a refuge.
It feels like a cage.
Confusion.
Uncertainty washes over the skin like cold water.
The pressure builds in the marrow.
Why is there no movement?
The world is turning, but everything here is fixed.
The weight of the sky is pressing down.
There is a promise of rest here, they say.
But the rest is some sort of tightening grip.
The seconds stretch.
The minutes fray.
Will the tension snap?
Will the air return?
Will the light reveal a path, or is the shadow deepening?
Will the pulse settle?
Or will it roar?
Will the mind slow?
Will it stop?
Will the heart…
STOP!
Gather the thoughts.
Leave the green behind.
One heavy step at a time.
Ease away while you can.
