On The Hillside Of Your Town Poem by Alexander Foald

On the hillside of your town, in a plain field of green
There is a tree, dried up to his twigs, rising up to the sky
Old and weak, eroded by the claw of time, he’s feeling
Much like dying, notwithstanding his soul remains

Wisdom he’s bestowed upon by heaven
Eternally lives in his own world
Watching as time flows on his hands,
And feels as life is being reduced to nothingness

But does he ever know death?
What comes to his heart before life fills in?
He knows nothing out of the boundary,
Yet why does he feel lonely?

The sun warms his wood, the wind blows his leaves
The mountains embrace him with their greatness
The oceans stroke him with their chasing waves
As vivid and clear as the color of the sky above,
He can hear the sound of life gradually descends.