The Passing Of The Tree Poem by Taylor Roberts

I stand, engulfed by day,
adorned by its light and glory,
Roots firm, leaves but sway,
I stand, flowers bearing, they drape,
flowing and cascading, they bloom,
eyes see what they see, as
beauty come to be.

I stand, as noon casts its shadows,
carried by the cries of passing, yet
around I endure in emptiness, as
I stand besides the silence, but for
the silence is crowded and emptiness
not. The wind bearing my blossoms,
as they watch, the leaves doth fall.

I stand, unattended, unattached.
Bloodless. Stony. In the darkness,
I stand, now bare, leaves a' frozen,
flowers a' crushed and carried,
all I be adorned by are fruit,
young at day, fallen by night,
the beauty of nature remain,
yet with my fruit comes its curse,
and with this a blessing of its sweetness,
amidst this its poison carries.

I subsisted these pain and pangs,
my roots still firm, my blessings and
curse shared. Purged of all, the beauty
of my love at flower, and the joy of my
leaf, the compassion of my company,
and the travail of sharing my fruits,
I did so, and have done so always,
and all that be shall be.

Oh I shall stand, show no woe,
show no woe, as it be my wont
to prevail, like the rose, I shall
bloom another year. Time shall
pass, and I shall gain, I shall
grow again. And for now,

I stand, waiting for time to
pass, chaos is what I seek,
without it, I shall fail to be,
without it, I shall fail to grow,
yet with it, my roots, slow in
pace, become merely dust.