Serenity, peace within.
Serenity, about to begin.

Rotting, peace falls to the ground.
Serenity, lost and found.

There sits the Tree, plucked apart.
The Tree, Tree of Peace no more but wanting to be.

The twisted figure towers amongst the rotten leaves for all to see,
Rot and rot in harmony.

Remembering the days of old, glitter of gold.
Now arises the scent of mold.

Nowhere near the season of decay,
The Tree uproots and falls on a summer day.

A tree of gray in a world of green,
Now an intruder to its surrounding scene.

In the dirt the Tree will stay,
So common its part in a Cosmic play.

All will look, and some will sneer,
But those with Wisdom are those who fear.

For this Tree is a forecast of what's to come,
Known by little, manifested to some.


the tree

Bionicgerbil