I

I am but a vessel,
nothing but insides,
realizing size
matters
when the squirrels
come by,
hungry.

II

Having survived
adolescence, I
compete with my
friends for light.
They grow,
so I must, too.

III

Standing tall,
I realize, above all,
I wasted my time here,
waiting for time's ear
to turn towards me,
giving me somewhere
to shout my worth
into the Earth.

IV

As I watch myself
tumble backwards,
I would cry if I could.
In my prime,
perfect--
for a bookshelf.

V

So now, I have to carry
burdens
that aren't mine,
knowledge
that I can't know,
and dreams
that I can't tie ropes from
and swing.

VI

Forsaken.
No room among sorrow
for fleeting hope.
Fallen friends,
brought here by
similar misfortune,
will be here still tonight,
waiting for their ends.

VII

I am dirt,
nothing but
what crawls through me.
But I am not alone.
A vessel,
blown in by the wind,
cradled in my embrace.
I admire its cunning,
its determined hope--
but as it grows,
I look back on days gone
with envy and repose
of the life I pass on.