The Tree That Knows Not Of Good And Evil
Winds whirl through dry, dusty lands.
Fallen to earth.
I know I am dying, she says.
Still, I can feel your desire.
Let your need for climbing end here, with me.
Let me be a bridge unto you.
I am not for crossing over.
I am not a bridge between your life and longings.
I am the bridge over the sheer drop of freedom that hangs
Below the surface of your thoughts, upon the underside
Of your every deed.
Slowly, make your way to me.
Covered in moss and lichen of green and gold my body
Curves and slides without deference to vertical or horizontal.
Lay yourself down.
Listen well to what I say.
Suffering cannot help you.
Forget yourself she says,
Her limbs entwining my limbs.
She waits for my consent.
Pressing without pressing, sliding without sliding.
She opens and fills spaces unbeknown.
I am nothing.
Only the warm, swift rush of time given…and time lost.
She knows my heart. She is my heart.
Without speaking she says to me I am here, with you,
On this bed of earth.
Rest your body everywhere in my body.
Remember me she says, remember me forever,
Which is not for long she says like the silver morning dew
Echoing from the blue stream,
Arcing out of sight.