Silence shattered. Snapping sticks and crunching leaves. Damp earth smothered by quilted gold-orange fallen things. Worms and creatures and beast and crawling bits and bobs flee from the destruction of my invasion. Solitude amongst the gnarled twisted clawing thieves, those moss covered skeleton limbs alive when not looking, reaching reaching reaching for my soul. A glance and all freeze in the bitter forest, I know they are watching as I creep on sacred ground. Amongst the dying and rebirthing forest cold plumes of breathe escaping my being and fleeing to the fire of the dying light beyond the cracks in the canopy. Leaving me to lay there and decay, as slowly as we always decay, no different on this day, except in peace.