did you know you were leaving?

was the root meant to hold, or let go?

if the forest heard, why didn’t I?

when did your hand become lighter than mine?

Two rootbound silhouettes. One seated, the other slowly sinking. Their hands locked in quiet farewell. Vines curl from their forms, still reaching. All around them, the forest listens.

This piece is a whispered memory, a moment suspended before silence took its shape. A mythic farewell between what stays and what fades.