In aftermaths passed,
a wrecked portrait of greenery
endeavors to deprive ash of its permanence,
reconstructing to the idyllic image of youth
as if never harmed before.
He was to be found inside,
entangled in vines
that aspire much higher
than a mind had conceived.
He was found then
when no one searched,
and in a way
had more power
and more to discover
than in crowded rooms.
( ❤ Mitch)
The Works of Mitch Worden 