the tree stands
it’s beauty innate
it’s unassuming and imposing presence warranted from the ground it stands upon alone
It did not ask to be there
it did not ask to be seen
it simply is as it has always been, strong
though the branches that make its image are strong but only in number
it lurches from time to time
the weight of its leaves vary from season to season
nonetheless its beauty persists through some timeless seemingly transient property that dances around the edges of one’s mind
it does not seek from anyone, anything that they do not freely give, their exhalation its sustenance.
i long to be a tree to be simple to the untrained eye and to be acknowledged by those who may sit beneath my branches on a sweltering day.
I long to be comfortable being glossed over, to not need nor want anything from anyone more than what they themselves need not
can that be enough for me, my greed tells me it can not be so, yet my virtue tells me it must be.
i must be like a tree, i am finite, i will grow and subsequently die. we are kin of sun and water, air and earth. so surely then we must be similar. yet even still, what a tragedy it is that i am not a tree.
Feb 17
Feb 17, 2026 at 6:39 AM UTC
the tree stands
it’s beauty innate
it’s unassuming and imposing presence warranted from the ground it stands upon alone
It did not ask to be there
it did not ask to be seen
it simply is as it has always been, strong
though the branches that make its image are strong but only in number
it lurches from time to time
the weight of its leaves vary from season to season
nonetheless its beauty persists through some timeless seemingly transient property that dances around the edges of one’s mind
it does not seek from anyone, anything that they do not freely give, their exhalation its sustenance.
i long to be a tree to be simple to the untrained eye and to be acknowledged by those who may sit beneath my branches on a sweltering day.
I long to be comfortable being glossed over, to not need nor want anything from anyone more than what they themselves need not
can that be enough for me, my greed tells me it can not be so, yet my virtue tells me it must be.
i must be like a tree, i am finite, i will grow and subsequently die. we are kin of sun and water, air and earth. so surely then we must be similar. yet even still, what a tragedy it is that i am not a tree.