The Seed Pod

I walked, appreciating the almost-dying day. Flowers are still beautiful around here during this season, and there are butterflies playing all around. And in my path I found a broken, dead seed-pod. I picked it up and held it in my hand, and thought of this decayed shell. And my heart grew full with sorrow, for I know that to grow we must leave something behind. But there is heartbreak in this action, and we see the loss.

And I walked up the hill, and cried for the leaving of what I loved.

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