The Willow Tree

I often lay underneath the willow tree Look upon a sky boundless and unlimited The opposite of man really Beckon the gods Beckon the earth to pity me with answers Where am I going? What am I? We often are told of a reality Bound to the land Bound to the people Yet what people are, they too bind me It seems to be that they are the trees Rooted into place given hope and lies As fertilizer for a life unyielding Made to believe they are limitless Living fallacies of grandeur all the While growing in one direction Influenced by the winds and by the world around them Shaping their branches and their growth And here we are underneath the willow tree Away from the people and their fabricated land Away from the distractions of idealized morality Connected to the willow tree, connected to the Earth That kindles our soil and fuels our inner child Free from the chains of human reality I lay myself A dissected enigma Feel that which is defined And listen for what is missing Only to realize I am missing I ask the willow tree That which plagues my mind That which eats away at me No matter the passage of time What is thy name? What meaning does though hold? Does though cling to on this earth? I lay there For what feels like days, months Knowing fully that the willow tree will not speak Will not heed my call Yet I listen And to this day I listen For every so often The wind blows And with it the song of the willow tree.