Charged.

You’re so beautiful, my tree.
Shiny, stark, sparkling crystals at the top.
The sun’s setting soon
and I share your yearning.
But you are also patient.
One minute is one day,
with one purpose:
to harvest the air & the soil,
to fill the world with rhythms & stories,
to stand alone.
Do you feel pain,
or just the absence of something,
a need to be filled?
Do you strive because of it?
Is there a reason that
your roots are clenching the stones?
Do you aid the worms?
Do you plant the springs?
Will you ever stop?
Have you ever dreamt?
Do you breath with your whole being?
Or just, as much as you can?
Is it because life is calling?
Especially when the light is fading?
Pretty soon it will all be silence,
not even the birds would sing.
You keep on breathing
in the darkness
one breath to the next.