atop the earth in infinite space,
there exists a minuscule speck of dust
void of light, engulfed by shadows
hovering above its once vibrant greens and blues;
the harbinger of winter’s wrath, waiting to wreak havoc,
as we brace for the inevitable: the severing of our intertwined friendship.
wind and salt, winter injuries
browned your needles ruthless, a worrisome sight.
i prayed that you won’t be everbrown,
incapable of rebirth.
i prayed that you’ll still flaunt your emerald needles
despite the wounds winter inflicted upon you
under my command.
sunlight penetrates a bleak world barren—
a blissful augury of spring.
alas, we’re greeted with repetitious sights;
short plant stems forcing their way
through the infinitesimal cracks of fertility
amidst the sterile soil.
light deprived creatures basking in the warmth of aureate rays.
only to wither again, only to hibernate again.
though we are different, shedding our dead needles, only to reveal the colour of life: green.
we are shackled by roots, bound to samsara
revived only to die again.
though we’re mutinous beings, stubbornly fighting to retain our foliage
unafraid to defy nature’s laws, outliving death
albeit being a piece of nature itself, existing in this realm.
oh! another xylem ring, another year.
united, we shall prevail forevermore
as we are evergreens, defying all odds.