Central Birch

The birch stands with its bark ghostly white About beauty of the meadow in which it stands songs they will write Above the birch children will fly a kite The birch appears to be floating in air its soul is so light From that soul metaphor springs One can hear it if carefully one listens to song nightingale sings Philosophy is what gives magic its wings The meaning of life past essence of time the wind brings What is a man and what is a God The philosophy is the mother of thought in birch like facade Through wind of metaphor and thought birch takes one for esplanade Perfect soul in divine vector self connected metaphor philosophy nowhere flawed