The Grey Grass

I now hug the stormy tree The bough branch and buds I now bite the height Green is turning red and orange I now hug the bone and blood I am a tree Ready to annihilate I am tornado My cognitive bowl is hollow I am now the limbic lobe Why did I do that I live with lack of rice and bread Tired morning and numb evening How shall I plant the tree No soil no water no sun I have no right to love No right to look at the jasmine Looking like the night The flight of fireflies Not for me I am the height Of thought and thought And thought again _______________________________ 20 November 2018 Prompt: "At times I think, at times I am" ~Paul Valery