A tree there stands, whose virtue seen is only part of that unrevealed.
The green a vibrant, temporary cloth…
The bark an ever present shield…
Yet, unmanifest belie the fundamental roots within the encumbering earth concealed.

So silently did I speak to myself… that I could not hear.
My thoughts strayed and scattered in that very place,
Where I kept them taut confined… that I should not think…
Lest I emerged from the security of my cocoon, so deftly spun and wrought with fear.

As yet, my long sought freedom from this independent cage
Of truth, borne on the topmost branch of the verdant form…
On which potential fails… for want of empathy and content…
Is fettered to the withering, mottling, decaying foliage of my muted and unmentioned rage.

In faith, ‘tis fair to say, that… the upper reaches of the tree
Are many offshoots from the narrowing straight…
Which bend and twist and turn in unity with the myriad ‘you’…
Whose declining, deadening leaves bedeck the radiating roots of the stagnant ‘me’.

Time engenders change… that which is so tentatively defined,
And Patience endures… as the slowness of the extending bough.
Respect reveres the bud… essential as the scented flower.
All incessantly abundant within the entwining essence of the mellowed mind.

There stands a tree, whose virtue seen is only part of that unrevealed.
The green a vibrant, temporary cloth…
The bark an ever present shield…
Now, manifest lie the fundamental roots within the nurturing earth concealed.