Where stands the lonesome tree?
And what protects it, the branches?
What shapes its growth but the weary?
And amongst said branches…leaves.

What fragile life do we share with it?
For like the leaves we brittle and fall…
and like the wind…. breath fades...

What supports its existence?
Is it time? Persistence?
What is its purpose?

Alone and lost underneath these branches
Stand in fear we take our chances

And in the distance stands a figure
Who’s cloak and shadow dance with vigor

Who’s face as if clouded
Whose memories all but shrouded
Whose name all but doubted…

Silence as if in mocking
In truth as if blocking

And in the darkness we stand and ponder
In the darkness our minds wonder
The time that we lose and squander
Under the lonesome tree