You have stood tall-
emperor of the land.
Full of life. Your arms
canopied seedlings.
Your limbs sturdy
nobody can uproot.
They worshipped
a father -like a son.
Head salutes
to heavens, serenading
earthly hymns
among the clouds.
The core of the earth
by your strength you drilled.
Sapping ground
of the living water.
And seedlings you tended,
basking in your glory.
Swarming like children,
sheltered and pampered.
The days went by
and so, the nights.
The seedlings became
like little parasites.
Draining strength
after strength
Lifeblood wanes
to season’s change.
Weeds encroaching
your landlocked territory.
Locusts hovers
the prey to the winds.
Of fungi ears
and holes gaping,
when time begins
the bark is rotting.
To destiny
of one lifeless tree,
isolated and bare.
Emperor bowed down.
Now, your crown
of thorns and vultures.
The death dropping
of frigid icicles.
Ages will come,
all lead to nothing
but old driftwood
to a woodcutter’s fire.
Solitude Amidst the Maddening Crowd
