I've moved east, gazing upon a new tapestry painted by the landscape. This night? I have to myself; walking through wet grass under a shrouded moon. Song's in my head put there from people I Love, little reminders of a life and world to rekindle. I'll pad on through this grass, their songs and memories echoing off the faceless moon to be snatched by a restless breeze to faraway lands. Sitting here, and there, to feel some small measure of a heartbeat swept away by chaos and commotion, but found amongst peaceful blades arcing skywards beneath me; they cry out for growth and friends, long lost to a machine called progress. Hope can be found in their roots, alive with that very same rhythmic pulse; ensuring no connection is lost. Remaining whole and regaining freedom in the fact that there are no real good byes, not between friends.