My outstretched arms mimicking the limbs of maple trees
That nearly swallow me
In their abundantly evident presence
Their stoic past remains etched in their bark vividly prevalent
Their branches reaching in vain attempting to harness the slate gray sky
A sky not effected by the plight of men and trees, desperate as we tear and pry
Yearning to grasp enough of the intangible frays of clouds drifting
Praying to uproot ourselves into a place more uplifting
These wanting limbs will remain wanting, for decades to come
Beckoning aid from the moon and sun
As stars watch from afar with no emotional attachment to show
Everyday the limbs strain and grow
Closing the distance, progress earned from weathering the storms
Until they can reach no more
Falling from the sky's grace
Roots anchoring them to a life destined for solemn existence stationary from rise through death and all
I stop reaching not waiting on the sky fall
Digging the ground uprooting myself with hands gnawing at the earth liberating a trapped dream
I stopped reaching for the sky because it wouldn't set me free...