The Green
You know not of what You speak
I says to Me.
Clearly as eyes can see, I hear Me
Speaking to Myself in sleep,
dreaming realities.
Manifested destinies yet to be realized,
While real eyes dive into horizons
Beyond the line of sight,
Over the infinite sea of time,
Says I to Myself what might
Be? What Will we may hold tight to
This soul, seeking these known
Inevitabilities, while casually
Planting seeds of literal trees
Towering high for they have already
Grown, and bloomed, and died, over a thousand
lives between the spaces in solid
Stone,
Nerves of the mother Earth, intertwined
Until they too become bones buried and fossilized by the perpetual cycle of
Moons glow and suns shine.
And so we shall stay, casually planting seeds
Of literal trees to plant seeds of their own
For Light begat Life, for Life begets Light.