How old…

How old is this tree?
Does it have a
heart that booms, deep
in the bowels
of the earth, in that
dark secret place between
its writhing tangled
roots that measure years,
nay, decades even,
in slow agonizing inches;
Or perhaps, it is
mine own heart that agonizes
over time, that futile measure
that marks nothing but dread
and the end of things
while the rest waits
with infinite patience for
its turn under the sun.

All that lives must wither.
All that lives must make way.
For that is the way of the world.

How old is this tree?

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2 thoughts on “How old…

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