first fall, to the tops of the trees, and seeds are not meant for harvesters

The Three Endings, Spooky Season, and 11/6/24 with unapologetically passive voices and prepositional endings

dribb ling  grape juice. rust on my  palm, rust of my fingers pulverised  and putrefied by the sisyphian cycle of spinning  i am destined to

Blossoms called destiny, made of sorrow Or the will and desire one's mind portrays.

doppel gänger  of the blue bar above us,  unfathomable cruising its veins,

Star shaped hands touch Earth and crumble dirt, Planting stars with seeds.

The fallen and the risen, twins;  Born as heralds of a new world. 

"Fate can often linger in the mind. But like water rippling away from a droplet, it never forgets."