The eucalyptus silence
Yearns for comprehension
Mere knowledge is not enough
When the world below doesn't know
So it poses an illusion
That even the sleeping can dream
Of some higher realm where
There's no second free from perfection
And it leans into our hungry
Numbness with coy forgiveness
For knowledge of the light
Will always stand apart
Unyielding and not understood
The best we can do is call it beauty
What stirs our sentience
Without reaching our wound
The boughs will slow to stillness
To absorb what we cannot
