now transmuted, we swiftly escape, as nature.
we are nature. 
long have we been absent,
but now we return.

we become plants, leaves, foliage, roots, bark.

we are bedded in the ground. we are rocks. we are oaks.
we grow side by side.




this was the epigraph to marguerite and julien (de ravalet) and i thought they had written it, but in the credits i saw walt whitman, which it recalls, while i can see how well it fit into the disembodied words of the siblings.