Correlation

I took a stroll into the woods.

Deep breathings exchanged, steadfast were my footsteps. The sound of a drizzle took over, clearing the thick haze that was lingering. 

There were whispers, murmurs about exploration and being lost. Some gave warnings, threw cynical laughters, imploded grievous cries. Dissonant noises hard to ignore.

I needed it, the rhythm to ground volatility. Chants to be sealed. 

I continued my stroll, deeper into the woods.

An audiation of the inner voice has taken place. The heart speaks, translated by the body, obeyed by the mind.

I saw it, upright, hiding behind an old oak tree.

I walked towards the tombstone.

Not a tinge of fear rose, but curiosity blossomed, like crawling ivies, all over the square stone. It was blank and solid. No carvings, no inscriptions, just dirt, maybe covered by some moss.
It lied peacefully on the ground. Alive, as if it was breathing.

Like gravity, I was drawn to it. 

Hauled, rather.

Is this where my heart pulsates to?

How long do we have left to live?