Let me speak of a quiet joy—

The kind that rises when roots,

deep beneath the dark earth,

find one another,

needing no eyes to see.

That simple meeting is enough—

enough to weave a bond so strong,

it keeps the tree standing

through every storm.

But—

How sorrowful it is,

that those who once shared our thoughts

now rest in that same soil.

And yet, how sweet it feels,

to know that at least, in that other world,

we will no longer be alone.

Sometimes even the shape of hell can shift.

Wherever a human stands,

creativity is present too.

If we made this paradise a hell,

then maybe—

even hell can be made a paradise