Soil soothes the bones as they grow cold from mold that grows so slowly on the untold story of a soul that died alone. Let go and float gently down the river flow. Unknown untill the fold is unfolded and the story retold by the recorded messages from the dead. Climbing outside the skull a beetle pushes the sun from the empty socket that was once used for optics that captured whats filled these holes. Try to make whole all that decomposes so roses may grow from the rotting flesh and cold moldy bones. Guess we'll call this home.