The Tree

There is a bridge that leads to no where
Crossing a mountain river, too wild to swim
·
There is a tree that grows on the other end
Half its roots in water, half buried in rocky land

·

·

I found this tree as an old crone led me free
We were going no where to look for no thing

·

·

Still – a mentor had always been waiting for me
Tall, strong, beautiful and proud – no sign of tilt

·

Yet, as we grew closer, the truth we could see
Its foundation divided between rock and silt

·

·

Soggy tendrals burrowing straight down deep
While roots on mountain’s side stretch out wide
·

·

Two of the roots come out to form a circle
Place permeating abstraction, inviting me in –
·
Silence and timelessness fully consuming
The briefest of moments to bind us eternal
·

·

No weary compalints or worries left in me
Now: only solutions to provide steady thriving –

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