The Birth Of Continuation

I invite you to lay your open palm on any sheet of paper. The tree is still speaking. Who is the true writer? Is the wind that once flowed through the trees? Is it the rain that fell through the trees. Is it the passerby that was once so in love with another person they sat next to the tree and held closely to their soul the music of thousand plus one lyrics? I invite you to listen to the energy a single sheet of paper holds in its veins.