My Brother Poem by Joseph Came

Why would people say I’m different from this tree?
is it because it cannot think like me
or walk about
on legs of flesh?
perhaps the difference lies
in spiritual ties
of the soul
or maybe it’s emotion
there’s no commotion to a tree
a tree cannot lie
or steal a kiss at night
yet a tree can die
like man, it creeps into death
slowly falling from a height
and all that’s left,
is the memory of its life
like an old forgotten song,
who’s tune you cannot place
but know it on its face
so we’re not that different you see
carbon shapes us all
and the same life force that flows through me
brings existence to this tree.