True friend.

I'll tie your wrists together with waxy saplings bending and winding the infinite symbol sealing the ends with sap. I'll crush the leaves between my fingers, under your nose. You can breathe deep, sleep and dream of tangerine fractals tidal waves and shifting, emerald sands. I'll watch a single candle burn flickering valiantly against gusts that steal between wooden boards. I'll tend to the shutters and question the shadows that come creeping during the small hours. You can trace the dunes with a finger and listen to distant rockfall in ravines the wing beats of honeyeaters and the footsteps of Saturn. After a time I'll throw dried sage over charcoal and waft it around with my hands to help wake you guide you back. I'll let the sun in across your blanket to warm you and secure your vision then I'll leave you with tea and step out into my own morning while you linger with the incense counting your understandings and watching your bonds dissolve.