Notes from the Tree of Life

When you look up
do you see nature
or grace?

Yes.

You, up in eternity already
Answer us.

Smoking nebulous in the last corner of the universe:
Why are you silent?
Asleep, like you can’t hear me.
Ignoring me utterly…
I know you can.

Splitting cells making man: answer.
Who told you to stop working?
And who told you to start?

You from the ocean,
Why do you swim silently?
Is there no answer at all?
Or is the answer just the way we feel about silence?

Last bleeding dinosaur, after it happened to all the others:
You must have figured something?!

Tree: what is up there anyway?
Where do you think you’re growing?

Carnivore: what did you take from him?

Storm: what do you lack in your movement?

Canyons: You’ve been moved by it…
Does it take 1  million years to know?

 

[Words should come less often]

 

The actors are accessories to the story
Men are seasonal, but life is so sweet.
Your little scrape,
Your foot sticking up in the air,
Your mother chasing the butterflies,
It’s all so sweet.
And your little tambourine,
Your reservations about the baby are so sweet.
Playfest, then now: 
Pass out where you stand,
23 inches tall.

You, running, tormenting the neighborhood with grasshoppers…

Yes, you.

 

Where is it all going?
I can’t tell, neither can they
(Because they are still deciding)

Is there someone behind you?
Are you blocking the light?

This is where we go, I’m sure.
To rocks and dirt,
To  our Father,
and the fairytales…
To kiss the cheeks of our mothers.
To the tree of life.
Is it as we remembered?

Perhaps, only better.