Rooted Matter

August 25, 2009
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If a tree fell in the forest
And no one heard it fall
Then what of the birdsong in its branches
Was it never there at all?
And what of the children of the earth
Sensing, wanting, moving, taking
Null to the kids of “what’s it worth”
Scheming, lusting, bruising, breaking
So what of you and me
My rooted matter
Sky tears on the window patter
Cry timber the whole steel world does shatter
So what of you and me?
I am birdsong if you are tree

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