sometimes I look at myself and I see a rock
hard
angular and solid
never bending to the will of another or the force of the wind
incapable of being morphed
except by the sharpest chisel
rocks know no time
everlasting
never changing
but to be honest I wish I looked and I saw a tree and not a rock
for trees may be weaker, yes
they do know time, they fall powerless to its passing
they are weak against wind
they do not always make it
but trees, they grow
and the wrinkles they earn they never try to conceal
trees have seen things, they know stories
they’ve lost branches
they’ve grown new ones
trees see death and new life again and again
and the mess of a tree tells the tale of many years
they morph, and they change
they may be powerless to outside forces
they may bend and sometimes break
but when a tree makes it, there is something glorious
and admirable
because rocks, they exist.
but trees, trees actually live.
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 8:31 AM UTC
sometimes I look at myself and I see a rock
hard
angular and solid
never bending to the will of another or the force of the wind
incapable of being morphed
except by the sharpest chisel
rocks know no time
everlasting
never changing
but to be honest I wish I looked and I saw a tree and not a rock
for trees may be weaker, yes
they do know time, they fall powerless to its passing
they are weak against wind
they do not always make it
but trees, they grow
and the wrinkles they earn they never try to conceal
trees have seen things, they know stories
they’ve lost branches
they’ve grown new ones
trees see death and new life again and again
and the mess of a tree tells the tale of many years
they morph, and they change
they may be powerless to outside forces
they may bend and sometimes break
but when a tree makes it, there is something glorious
and admirable
because rocks, they exist.
but trees, trees actually live.
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