Monday, December 21, 2009
So I am heavy and solid like a tree,
The weight of my being is also high.
Being me looks like a higher stance,
Within my world a higher nature conflicts.
My natural moods are never anyone else’s,
Their religion is constant, and I am patient.
The tree I look at and observe like a scientist
Is inside my eye, my ears do loathe it,
But I am fond of it as a face of tears.
I weep when my being is within the tree,
It is far too heavy for my comfort.