I thought that tree was my friend
yesterday - it had that color I liked,
the deep green remembered from long ago -
today there is only the gray of the whole.
There was a time I was one with that tree.
I picked it out from all the others in the woods.
I decided to like it, and, finding it mine,
felt divided from the others I shunned.
Now comes the time when such judgment is gone,
when things once so clear seem unknown,
when I must let each tree release to one breath
and not retch at my own emptiness.
But how can I move to the unity to be
when I can't feel its central beat?
How can it be that I traipse this new world
where all that is revolves around nothing?
