The tree tops at night are a strange and mysterious lover. The leaves hang, suspended, in an unfettered and yielding abandon. They are attached to nothing. No branches to hold them, they choose to remain there, bothered not by autumns promised fall. They float, brightened by the moonlight, and worry for nothing. Take heart in their strength, for it is present in the deepest regions of each of our own constitutions.  Love your life, for it could be your last in this realm.

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