A selected seed to nurture,
never left amidst scorched conditions.
Nestling its feet beneath cool soil,
rich with moisture, and the greatest
ingredients of spiritual conviction.

Contradiction, A layman’s term,
to speak with forked tongue. One
can feel justified, as trunk turns
to smothering vine. A vineyard of
tentacles choke life from its host.
The most hospitable choice a weary
rover can wish for, is shade, the
conducive production of deadening
senses draped in foliage.
Resting his head against wood,
wind, and the sun’s rays, as the vine
continually spreads.

Despicable destitution, the institution
of shriveled seeds left to wonder
what he may have been, while being
burned up, under the persecution of
the son. The poverty for material
wealth is the lust of ancestral
monotony. Where cyclic belief is
conjured comfort, and fantasy
opportunity.

Sadly a nourished seed isn’t meant
to bloom, most remain colored
green with envy, dooming millions
for centuries to come.
As leaves shift shapes, shed colors,
falling to pad the footfall of the next
hardship destined sojourner of good
fortune, good intention.

Roots embedded, steadying its base,
so the pronounced foliage of knowledge,
wisdom, and creativity may shade the
over worked minds of those struggling
to control the elements onslaught.
Tears shed, heat bled, each pulsing vein
infected with life, the photosynthesis
of choice to continue questioning its
existence.

Each new season brings even greater
tests, scars, scrapes, bald in spots,
knots remain where limbs were severed,
sheered away. No fear, adversity stared
down from stories tall.
Children play, adults banquet upon
blankets, resting tired heads, and strained
thoughts upon soil meant to absorb their
love and return their vitality.
Cooling their backs, nestling their heads,
minds allowed to drift away from the
frenetic insistence of what to do next,
to an unmatched tranquility, the soothing
majesty under a canopy of antiquity.

Carved upon, remarked about,
forgotten pleasures become rotten
brittle limbs, remembering the day
it landed upon cool soil, nestling roots
into nourishing moisture.
The greatest ingredients of spiritual
conviction.
Decades go, seasons come,
leaves shift shape, but this colored soul
continues to grow, continues to
glow.