Where aged tombstones lean, do you feel the weight of my presence?
Where lichen crusts my face, do you imagine I was ever young?
Where storms erase my name, do you fear your future oblivion?
Where willow fronds cloak me, do you sense I am finally at peace?
I am the beating heart of a tree.
I am the life oxygen you breathe.
I am your past, present, and future.
I am your responsibility.
Do you feel the weight of your presence, when aged tombstones lean?
Do you imagine you were once young, when lichen crusts your face?
Do you fear your future oblivion, when storms erase your name?
Do you sense you are finally at peace, when willow fronds cloak you?
You are the beating heart of a tree.
You are the life oxygen you breathe.
You are your past, present, and future.
You are your responsibility.
Sarah Potter Writes 