Olympic National Park Storm King Hike

Freedom Lies Where Our Past Breaks

I feel the world within me.

Old-growth trees deeply rooted in the past,
They tell the story of the earth,
Scars now seen are ones that last.

Beautiful, brown, intricate bark, like skin it’s worn like armor;
Yet underneath that outer shell, reflective eyes portray the heart.
Heart of a tree that grows each day,
You look the same, they’ll want to say.

But they don’t know the winds of change,
That sway my branches, rearrange;
The path that once I thought I knew,
That runs down deep where once I grew.

I grabbed ahold of earth so tight,
Couldn’t let go, took all my might,
To realize the strength it takes,
Yet freedom lies where our past breaks.

Like days outgrown they’ve burnt to ash,
A lightning bolt comes like a flash,
So marvelous this force of light,
To wake up all that sleeps at night,
And burns away the past of me,
A bright new dawn, I’ve come to see.

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