Watch that which is not,

canvas that we paint upon

creation, each stroke

A cool wind causes leafless trees to shimmer

The gray morning resonating with a sense of renewal

Goodbye for now, forests of old


That which is not fills

the center of every eye,

through the void we see

To the kingdom of men, I roll on wheels unswerving

Icebergs dot the stream beside me, yet in the stillness of the water

I look down and see the world


That which is not pulls

the unyielding winds of time

let us soar tonight


I feel the pulse of a species now, beating in my ears

Strong and inconsistent.  I whisper to myself, and empty forests of old

Roots don’t grow in paved streets.



we fear not. The soul bellows,

our power is now!


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