Wednesday, January 7, 2015

Concept

As fight of fools we
Build this tree; we groan
Flow sap and spread to
See a chlorophyllic haze
Bedazzle threads of veiny
Sugar sand. Oh hand on
Hand to link to bough,
As ever then to grow
To be a mighty oak's
Tall shadow, free of
Worry, shackles clean,
Now stand alone inside
Of me.

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