Outside my window, a tree grows.

It’s spreading life to which it owes

It’s majesty to the One that made me

But knows not...

            not me.

 

My soul, my happiness sprang from that tree

With the knowledge of our parents that He

Created me, me such as that tree

            To be.

 

Desires I know not from their origin

Escape my heart to be free.

But the tree has no desires, except

            To be.

 

I live in my world outside of that tree

Knowing that he is just like me.

But we are the same, created by He

            To be.

 

Bobby is gone by his trembling hand

To slip away from his terrible stand

For he tried to be like that tree

            To be.

 

Souls will mesh when this body gives

Up to the maker of that tree.

Then I will be one with another

            To be.

 


 

My only payment for this poem is feedback

Show your appreciation and pay me well

 

Read More Entries in this Anthology

Go to the Library

Go to The Authors Haunt Homepage