I'm lying down to rest the very issue that has brought my friend and I the most distraught.

I'm burring the problems that I've had with Kami with the very dirt that grew such conflictions.. That nurtured the very escence of their reality. The sun - no longer shines upon this side of the hill. The whether - no long bears light spring showers but nothing less than raging storms and the wind blows as if there is no tomorrow. The seeds in which I planted have grown into these tree's.. each limb bearing more constrictions - more restrictions.. Not anymore. I have taken the chainsaw of doubt and have sawed through the pompus erection of the tree.

The tree now stands - beheaded. No more can the limbs bear the fruit of lies. No more can the tree supply growth lines to its followers. No more.. No more..

As I'm buring the problem deeper and deeper into the unforgiving wrench of reality - it hits me like a bottle of wine collapsing and shattering on the floor after a drunk has taken their last sip before condesending into their unforgiving state of unconciousness...

Why? Why now? Why do I put so much effort into such an ill-mannered problem as this and expect it to be remain buried - seven feet under - for all time?

..It won't..

It's only the begining. We all know that after death comes the aftermath of spiritual belonging.

Once I would bury an issue - it only becomes resurected up in the future. So why not even bother and leave the problem to linger and wait and see how much it can destruct before anything has even begun to be constructed?

I don't know.

So I continue to bury the problem. As I pat the last patch of dirt across the grave of its own denial - I realize that the grave stone has this little Angel on it. I remince on how the Angel could compare to such a Devil as which I had just buried. The wings on the Angel seemed to have crumbled before my very eyes. The remains of concrete rested upon my hands then transformed into remote peddals of the very roses I had layed across the site.

The matter lays beneath the soil. Deeper than no other.

I left the site. I didn't turn around. I didn't stumble. I didn't mumble.

That's that.

The roses may disinigrate, the stone-henge may crumble, the dirt may cascade, but the issue still lies beneath - a raging force waiting to be dealt with..

..a raging force I have fought and given up on..