tree of life

 

I am a tree, 

living to be formally carved 

after my death.

I hold the inspiration for this

in my grain.

I spend time each day 

shaping my future self to be.

I know of saw and blade, 

only by hearsay.

I spring branches appropriately 

to express me for then.

I tell all the other trees near by 

of my fibrous mischief.

some inspired,

give up their fear of fire

while other share the sun more openly.

I have the earth enrolled 

in observer presence of me.

they look up to see me 

in their different imaginative light.

I will never be a plank or a post.

I encourage others to dream also,

with inspiration and inner encouragement.

we have been taken too passively 

as we are and proceed.

I have magic in my grain.

I delicately sculpt rings of contrast 

that will eventually be of interest.

I don't do concentricity per se.

I do circles of sorrow and glee,

of ecliptics with optics in mind.

I will be bare 

and be sight-senuous for then.

I will visual say what words cannot express.

I will know of their heart 

and speak through their eyes 

to their soul.

my community will convey through me

and be heard 

in the movement of human hearts.  

life and death are one, 

for I am not just a tree of now

and a wooden statue but then.

I am the fiber of being.

all of form comes here 

only to honor.

humans need to know that 

in their hearts, 

as the spirit of me will speak

to those who look for then

and synergistically feel. 

for what I have 

to secretly pronounce from then

by sight 

that touches their soul . . .