My disorder is like a tree

There’s the trunk, the stability
Attached to it, beneath, lay the roots
That keep it grounded to the earth

Above,

There’s the branches with all their sprouting leaves
Struggling in their many directions at the same time
to grasp at the same thing

The rays,

Like my thoughts reaching out
Trying to understand the complexity
Within it’s beings existence

All the meanings to it’s origin,
It’s seedlings of creation blowing on the wind,
The fruits it has bore,
And the enduring labours that stand in between
What can be
And what will become

The ocean, the air, and the sun

Fall, winter, spring blooms summer

An order within disorder’s cycles

Intrinsically placing its faiths within the nature of it all

And here I rest in the tree’s canopies shade

My mind eases to this space within space

And I can’t help but laugh and cry at the same time