JOHN EFTHYMIADIS

The Tree

A big tree
And its identical shadow
The leaves, the words increase
Whatever it steals from light
Is spread over the soil
Every single breath of it
Trickles imperceptibly on the roots
And then raises in the wind again
So that it can’t be discerned
Which is the tree and which is its shadow
Which is life and which is poetry
Interdependent reality.

Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 25, 2007
Poem Edited: Tuesday, January 4, 2011

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