Pines, loyal pines, endless pine sentinels
In this forest with loneliness and me.
Giving refuge to my thoughts, pains, of growth
Reminding of the strength which lies within
Wondering if the sentinels, in their
Glory, question the ascension toward sky.
Blessed are the flourishers growing without
query. They shall be conquerers of life.
In the station of pines, strength beseeches
The weary. Their convalescent I’ll be.
A world without the wilderness invites
Tempests to rage, forgetting the nature
Lying cast away. Allowing the known
To dictate volitions of hearts’ desire
Waiting for seasons’ return to the pines.