Flor de agosto
Poeta que considera el portal su segunda casa
The eyes of the tree are looking at me
and for hundreds of years much they have seen...We agree.
The rustling leaves have stories to tell
of people and creatures that have moved away.
The birds that have nested, the squirrels that have raced
all left behind their spirits and footsteps.
My eyes stare back at the majestic being
wondering just how it came to be.
From seedling to sapling to a mature tree,
its roots carved a path to connect with me
at a time when nature was all I could see,
for the human experience became ill at ease;
moments of uncertainty and times of grief.
The branches and leaves reaching towards the sun
inspire and strengthen from powers above.
Invisible network made of molecules,
particles colliding in constant unison.
Roots grabbing and crawling inside the bowels of the globe
a subterranean web connecting all shrubs.
Eyes beneath the dirt and eyes high above
these stationary creatures with hidden eyeballs
have insects as agents of information
marching back and forth towards a station,
where data is collected by mere vibration.
As I stare in hypnosis at this magnificent being
these things were told to me telepathically...I think.
and for hundreds of years much they have seen...We agree.
The rustling leaves have stories to tell
of people and creatures that have moved away.
The birds that have nested, the squirrels that have raced
all left behind their spirits and footsteps.
My eyes stare back at the majestic being
wondering just how it came to be.
From seedling to sapling to a mature tree,
its roots carved a path to connect with me
at a time when nature was all I could see,
for the human experience became ill at ease;
moments of uncertainty and times of grief.
The branches and leaves reaching towards the sun
inspire and strengthen from powers above.
Invisible network made of molecules,
particles colliding in constant unison.
Roots grabbing and crawling inside the bowels of the globe
a subterranean web connecting all shrubs.
Eyes beneath the dirt and eyes high above
these stationary creatures with hidden eyeballs
have insects as agents of information
marching back and forth towards a station,
where data is collected by mere vibration.
As I stare in hypnosis at this magnificent being
these things were told to me telepathically...I think.
