I muse that I am like the trees. Ever changing, battered by the elements, yet glorious in my knotted countenance, a beauty to the life I’ve lived. I was the tree still standing as the salty water caressed its limbs tempting it to its salty depths. I was the tree who stood rooted in the earth, not giving way to the call of darkness. Every day I would glory at the rising of the sun which lit the world around me and the soft hues of the sunset as the sun dipped once again into the Western Sky.