Tag Archives: tree

The Tree of Knowledge

Into the night that may swallow whole
What fear we have and render silent the voices that may protest.
On deaf ears our crys fall,
An uncaring void, unwelcoming, and unable to
See how we fall, motionless,
Into the apathy of entropy that holds the universe in check.
What pride, what arrogance would grow rampant
Had not the tree of knowledge bestowed the gift of mortality.

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Elsewhere

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A day in the trees,
Forgetting troubles below.
Far ahead she can see.
Vision unobstructed so,
One might wonder why,
Why would she ever come down?
Trees against a tempting sky,
Their branches make it impossible to frown.
Every comfort she could need there;
One blissful nap among the leaves.
Those troubles below need her care
In her those troubled believe.
She is not her own,
She is needed elsewhere.
The trees are not her home,
But she will seek them when time will spare.

Against Cold Tide

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One more cold wind and all that it sustains:
Sad dreams, feigned smiles, but more so the latter.
Beneath the placid surface calm remains
Before the storm, all I have to catch her.
I cannot gain or get any closer.
She is a vapor, in essence a breath.
This race. I can’t say what it has cost her;
It’s sure to lead to her untimely death.
She is the fragile calm before the storm,
The lonely rock standing against cold tide.
What can I do with a sad maiden, torn?
Nothing but simply remain by her side.
Sad dreams?  Not for long. Short lived are feigned smiles.
Through the light and dark I’ll stay all the while.

Fires of Conspiracy

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From those in power,
We are different.
The smell is sour,
The taste, a bitterent.
The throne ought be mirror,
Not what casts a shadow.
The occupant peers ore’,
Their hardened hearts to harrow.
In furrowed wakes behind,
They planted in the soil
And the dirt that is our minds
Seeds of greed that despoil.
Their labor; our sweat and blood,
Their currency; our souls.
Just one night, a violent flood
To overthrow their thrones.
But will we stand
Against the tide?
Our bloody hands,
Their secrets hide.
No more behind a face so strange,
We’ll find one more familiar,
Shown in the puddled rain
To be one that is similar.
The last dark night, the red dawn shows
Whose hands that did conspire,
Death and greed with war in tow,
In ash recently expired.
From those ashes who’s to say,
What tree we’ll see to grow?
We, the ones to prune today,
Decide beauty or thorn show.

For The Falling Of Trees

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For the falling of the trees
And circumstances such as these,
Makes today a dangerous place indeed,
When from what’s cut down there’s planted no seed.
One who plants the seed today,
Shall feel no fear; come what may.