Walnut Tree

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I have flown in the wind to the sound of your breath,
Lived life, enjoyed strife, and taken solace in death.

I have watered the fields with the tears from your eyes,
I have walked on the earth with the strength of your thighs,

I have pondered the wonders of earth with your gaze,
And listened to your thoughts for all of your days.

I have tasted my flesh with the tongue in your cheek,
And I sing with your voice, smell flowers through your beak.

I have written all books with the separation of my word,
in the continuation of that knowledge my death is deferred.

My seed in the fruit of the vine is the pea,
that grows from itself into all it can be.

It grows in the dirt from the breath of my life,
The marriage of fire with its eternal wife.

I have flown down the drains and out of the springs
From my light of darkness the manifest rings

I am young as the quark, and older than old.
To small to grasp, but a wonder to behold.

My head is the end of a labyrinth of pathways
The walking of which will mark all of your days.

The illusion of you is a figment of me,
From a walnut can only grow a walnut tree.

© Copyright – 2020 Rowan Ramsay



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