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Especially in the heart of Pennsylvania (Penn's Woods).
My eyes feel heavy,
Weighted down with the pure courage
Of every firm tree,
Survived by decadences of the mother's gripe;
Of every blade of grass,
Dancing in the pastel light of the ailing sun;
Of every foot-made pathway,
Treaded on by the flesh of those searching for the mystery of god.
I choose nature.
Not because she is deflowered by regurgitating realists,
Nor due to the privilege that I am given
When weaving around the bases of her sinewy mountains.
But nature and me, we go way back.
In the beginning was life, and it was good.
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