Hidden within the dense leaves and knotted lovers of trees
And roots and sly creatures lurking in the shadows of
an untidy mind-there reigns reason to seek,
satisfy all cravings for a life unblemished
in the rush and tumble of a fate pre-determined.

Where you were born and how you lived to become
part of this social structure built on the nuances
of rituals, so bred to burst you into bloom
as you tumble and twist in the days unfolding
in biblical proportions of trust in traditions.

The roots drive into the skin of the earth
and rest sublime to weathered ecstasies.
You are born again  in the forest of dreams
where your cards were stacked against a chain of events
that grew you into wondrous life.

At home in the sublime situation where the city rises
from the cemetery of the living
zombies go to work on busy black snakes, their tongues
twisting in and out of buildings and by- lanes
with bodies racing non-stop to  small cubicles
Gaining income for living, selling subservience
in the slave market of minimum wages.

The forest grows in a fertile plain embedded
in the minds of all people escaping from living
in the detritus of social norms. We are the roots.
Author Notes

We all belong to a social forest which has its own rules on who we are and how we survive in its ever expanding growth. There is little we can do to change those circumstances.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.