Serenity set camp within sanctuaries in plain sight,
Yet, sometimes, it’s hard to find.
Akin to the eyes of storms, calm amidst the chaos.
The weary traveler checks in, then leaves without a sound,
Lured away by the lull of the road.
A siren's song sang from car wrecks.
The weathered fool washed the dust off in the camp,
And roots grew in the mud.
Sapling tree of life.
All who enter will eat freely of its fruits,
Should they stay to see it bear.
The fool grows alongside the sapling,
Yet wonders still:
What dreams entranced revolutionaries, martyrs, and sleeping giants?