Tree Of Time
Poem
A tree born of sad fate,
Weakened hope,
Changed in the glimmers
Grown for the thought of more,
Battles to be ready.
—
It knows the blood to be its water,
The bodies of the dead —
The fertilizer,
And the faces of hanged dead —
Its sun.
—
A ghost born of the before,
Itself was the being of the past,
Where death was far and in spares,
When laughter and songs —
Could be heard from the streets.
—
Growing and thriving,
Its thorns rode cycles of life,
Bleeding the skies of its frosted fog,
Taking its breaths in stride,
Living when they’ve died.
—
Standing,
It reminisces as it falls asleep,
The past was beautiful as the present,
Where even the moments are liquid,
Passing time with the waves of its leaves.
—
Branches grown, and far
It continues to see life,
Salvaging with its quietness —
Normalcy of what seeped back into earth.
— —
