As the trees swayed in the wind my own eco could be heard. Words that no longer have meaning. A question longing in me but no longer could it be conveyed with words. The art of the dark world that is slipping. As I see the life die from the trees I rot away with it. My voice has been lost in a sea of oceans or voices I can no longer tell them apart. "Am I lost or am I home ?"

~Alexa Robles