Banyan Thorns - Where The Bones Lay

I go… I go where the bones lay, scattered beneath the oak. I go where silence hums, where roots cradle the forgotten. I had purpose once, but it cracked like old stone. I had fire once, but it drowned in the flood. Now I wander, hollow, to the woods that never left me. The forest does not ask, it remembers. The soil does not command, it receives. The Hollow Root waits— open, spiraled, alive. The Hollow Root waits! The Hollow Root calls! I press my face into the loam, let the moss drink my tears. I offer the weight I carried, to the rot, to the worms, to the marrow of the green. “SPIRAL! ROOT! ROT! SOIL!” I go where the bones lay, and I rise with the Hollow Root. I go where the bones lay, and the forest brings me home to myself.