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As I prune the plant, I prune myself

The withered and old, the decayed and dessicated

It remains without attention

 

The whole will survive, but not thrive

I hang on to it, it does not wish to die

Nor I

But I am already dead, for I was never born

There is nothing to fear

 

Let go of the rot, it is not you

Shed the fat, cut the excess

A new leaf, a new life

The same, but different

 

Hang onto what is living

Let it flow through you

The nutrients support and nourish

Nothing will be forgotten

 

But only in facing reality

Will you see what is dead, and what is living

Only you can choose life