Sing the Sorrow
Sing the Sorrow
Roots deeply set
firmly embracing this place
home where I belong
knowing no other
Light falls dappled
bronze and gold, now often gray
leaves instinctively upturned receive
the gift imbued without question
Forest opus, palette strokes of genius
changing wild, fragrant, free
from seed to mighty oak
count of endless seasons lost
Antiquity remaining as today
past present future as one
blink in the moment
few brothers remain
This place once fragrant
those who look upward
small from the forests feet
bring us to our knees
For what purpose? Vanity?
control, master of none
every blink the dream fades
with laden breath
Soft rain breathe to me
my friend, harm me now?
questions without answers
rest comes to all in time.
Stephen (Stoic)
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