There is a tree
with falling leaves.
It releases a sigh.
Flapping leaves. Lifeless.
The sigh
sentences the death pile.
You stand besides it,
and release a sigh.
Are you the judge
or the executor?
You tilt your head, laughing with mockery.
“I am neither.” You cite yourself.
There is a network, working interactively.
You think you are sick. Doctors certified.
Thumbs are numb, mumbling
on the crumbles, plumbing
comfort from the invisible.
A plaster face,
the same as his, hers, and theirs.
You stand besides the tree.
A monster is awake:
too much noise,
too much vibration.
It opens its eyes:
Who are they?
Faces on him, her and them.
They move fast,
faster than lightning.
You stand besides the tree.
Then the face is torn off.
You look at the tree:
Life in the trunk,
death in the pile of leaves.
A judge or executor?
The face in the leaves.
You think
you are unique.
Which face is it?
Seeing a fly on the net.
And thousands of flies.
Then you encounter that tree
out of thousands of trees.
That tree and you:
Half alive,
half dead.
The fly, or the tree, on the net.
You watch and cannot touch,
You stare and cannot move.
The spider climbs close.
You finish the sentence.
Quite abstract. About uniqueness and self-perception. Some places may not even make logical sense, but it leaves a lot of space for imagination... or maybe just nonsense... ♪
