Life’s Tree ~

My bark is broken and dry, splitting across the meat on which it lies. Tall will it grow only as deep as the roots will go. Will the winds of trouble rock me at my core, will the rains of sorrow uproot me from the earths floor. I have seen the seasons come and go some so trying in which my rings will show. I am thirsty but where does my quench come from, the heavens above or the mortals below. My colors have no bounds, but my leaves are pulled by the ghost of gravity to the ground. Bare is my structure as the warm turns to cold, leaving me a sight so frail and old. Until the winds turn back the hands of time, I will stand here motionless as a mime.