Why do the trees get to be old,

and still be beautiful?

Why do we hunch with age,

while they tower with longetivity?

Why does our flesh fall apart,

while theirs remains unfaltering?

Why do we cycle through generations,

while they simply watch?

Why do the people get to change,

and still be beautiful?

Why must we stay in one place,

while they go as they please?

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Eyes full of white

Fed by flash after flash

Life given to the somber field

Dancing blades of green repeat

Cold stare from the leviathan of the past

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Purple, purple, purple, shimmer

Drift forth, endlessly spinning

Grow no more, bloom in ice, inverted roots

Soft voice, bringing emptiness

Underneath white, falling leaves

Not a single ripple

Forever unchanging

The voice remains unmoved

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