Being True.

These paths go on and on. They never stop.

How did the paths know where to go?

These paths had friends. The trees. The trees were loyal to the paths and lined them.

The trees remained unmovingly dedicated. All their lives.

The trees had friends. Other trees. They held hands all the time.

The trees remained unmovingly dedicated to the other trees. All their lives.

Then one day, there was rain. The sky cried.

The trees cried along with the sky. They cried on the sly. They thought nobody noticed them cry.

But the paths waited with open hands. Just to hold their tears.

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