Unbound

This being beyond the expected, this Still here. First the almost, the the animal Which was to save or at least provide Another chance, but now will not allow Any near, even as unfettered. My father, finished With sacrifice, left. Many have come to this field To wait. The more they wait the more They also leave, only to return again with others Until the field is filled with waiting. And here am I Who withheld nothing. And there the white Always in the tree. You go Where you need to go until it does not Matter. You do not matter. There is The window. Open. Now go through.