THE TREE within US
In front of my house
There stand a tree—
A tree of love
Upon it grows of sensitivity,
And in its roots
Lie the feeling of pain and anguish
It often remain laden
With the fruits of untimely memories.
I have watched that tree;
I have often seen
The sweetest fruit of affection
Falling from it.
Along with them,
It has also left behind
Some branches
Where neither flower remain
Nor leaves,
And fruits-
As if without flower and leaves
Lie barren and silent.
Perhaps love, like comfort,
Has never reached those branches.
That is why,
Even in their restlessness,
They have learned
To remain silent.
The glittering brightness
Of branches laden
Of the flower, fruit and leaves
Seems to mock
The sobbing darkness
Of those silent branches.
Who know
Weather those branches are isolated,
Or the tree itself
Is the cause of their separation.
With its pain and sensitivities,
There is no equal harmony.
Sometimes within it
Darkness and silence spread;
Somewhere there is light.
Are truth or un-truth
Like two sides of the same coin?
Or is this merely a reaction
Of the tree-
Or perhaps
A warning?
With a desire
To redirect
The flow of humanity,
To bring vitality
Back into human life—
This is the difference
The branches of the tree reveal.
Its physical structure
Has told
The essence of human life.
It’s not a tree—
It's a human being.
A human- caught between darkness and light,
Searching endlessly
For Ego, Identity, Existence.
Copyright © ANKIT KUMAR | Year Posted 2026
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