Like the Pine Tree, I am Struck Down

July 26, 2011
Here I am.
Here we all are; present,
being, on this earth.

While we spend hot hours
spinning around a golden star,
the one Sol
I make tapestries, and brew pomegranate tea.

My house plants are dying.
My rosemary tree, and the tall amaryllis; his petals are deepened
by the ending of day.

For the day is not forever.
Neither is the night.
Never is anything
always apparent.
Sol will tire and wash out the galaxy.
My rosemary tree will whither.
And like the pine tree in my backyard,
I am struck down
as eventually we all are.

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