thru the window,

thru the tree,

the sunlight traveled a million miles

to strike an apple;

made it gleam at me.

oh, oh, fresh and red

in the light.

birthed from the core of the earth;

nutrients traveled thru the dirt, up the roots.

birthed from the clouds;

untouchable atmosphere

did its doing, fell its water.

thru the door,

into a dream.

I felt the soft heat of the day

against my muscles,

young and strong and bare and lean.

the tree, old and gnarled,

with parts broke and lost.

what remains,

stronger than steel,

survivor of winds and storms

too mad and terrible to believe.

she still blooms her fruit in the

early death of each year.

up, up from the trunk,

I climb,

can never reach the sky,

but I can pretend to try.

climb, climb,

to where the oxygen is thin,

where we can wear the world

like a robe over skin,

and whatever truth that exists

is laid out and clear

in the empty of the air.

coming to the top,

I found what I had so boyishly sought.

what starts out sincerely,

can never end cleanly,

unless the truth found is forgot.

I held the apple in my hands,

saw the holes,

rich with disease.

oh, so young, so new,

product of an eternity of work,

pushing you to what you are.

so, perhaps lost from the start.

so young,

so lost.

already filled with rot.

oh you looked strong in the sun,

but my god you’re lost.

I let the apple drop.

roll on, roll on,

thru a world you cannot touch,

till you stop.

then saturate the soil,

even sickly you,

can one day valiantly serve

the earth,

though not save yourself.

so, on, on,

roll thru your predestined,

unstoppable

loss.

thru the window,

thru the tree,

the sunlight traveled a million miles

to strike an apple

and lie to me