The Ceiba Tree
I'm walking in the mountain range of Urayoán
Under the massive umbrella-shaped Ceiba tree;
The sanctum where the Taíno chief bravely walked.
The tree looks bright with a virescent hue of life;
Full of strength, an imposing specimen to behold,
It witnessed the struggles and strength of Urayoán.
Its colossal presence, silent, stoically stands,
Its arms stretched-out, locked-in with the other trees;
Its enthralling aura woos me to come in.
Leaves susurrating secrets as they fall to the ground,
Random leaf patterns spread alluring & cueing me;
They hummed & feathered as I shuffled through the dense mat.
The old noble warrior still fights on with its
Massive roots bulging in and out of the dirt
In an abstract ultra-slow motion, it grips the ground.
Seems like time has stood still, everything looks the same,
Time has stopped as a freeze-frame, motionless, suspended;
And the Ceiba tree still stands, living, striving and proud.
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