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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