What will grow from this? What will grow from the seeds we plant out here in this small garden we have made for ourselves? Out there is the dark wood, where things grow from shadows and damp places to entangle the paths we take out from here to reach the wider world.
Here, we fight back against the chaos that could overwhelm this small piece of land. Here, we hold out against the world creeping in towards us.
We know, however, that eventually, some years down the line, we will no longer have the strength to hold back the world as it creeps towards us, scattering its seeds of discord, its tendrils choking the life out of what we hold dear.
But, until then, tending this small garden is all we have.
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