• Vol. 07
  • Chapter 12
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The Tree Which I Became

Growing is the mantra, they tell me
Rightly so. Was I not once just a seed?
A spark of life, a brief relief
As life sheltered in joined palms
Since then years have passed by
The changing seasons and belief
I have noted them all
Each of these curvy lines
Awaits narration to a gentle passerby
Amidst creation and recreation
I often meditate,
To simply make and remake
Trim my errors and nurture my being
Also, to Scribe a few lines for my future leaves