Just Stands

 

The mist, thick and white,

Pressed down upon

Our lives below

In this morning scene

Of proud oppression—

It was quiet.

Many had yet

To make the crossing

From within to without;

To bring forth

That new energy,

To start the day

Afresh and alive—

How quickly the violent

Winds of the night

Are forgotten

As the dew-filled air

Sits heavy and present

All around us,

Impeding our innocent

Existence—

Gazing at the scene

In a sleepy trance,

The motionless pine

Is there—

Standing tall,

Firmly anchored

In the motherly soil,

Its nonchalance,

knightly, nay stoic

In its unmoving response

To the fiercely quiet attack—

In its noble stance,

The expressionless tree

Reminds of strength,

Of an enduring wisdom,

And confident knowing.

Untouched by anger,

Dread or time,

The great plant stands,

Neither inside nor out,

But just stands

In silent order,

Nurtured by the watery air,

Living this day

Equally to the last

With its roaring winds

Of empty threats,

Tormented thoughts,

And exhaustive power—

It stands,

Alive and fresh,

Always new

And full of vigour,

Swaying or still,

Wet or dry,

Purifying the air

And supplying life

For us to breath,

So we can move

With strength in our hearts

From all the trees

Surrounding our day

From morning to night,

And night to morn,

Overseeing our thoughts

And inspiring our acts—

Leaving the home,

We step into eternity,

The endless dome

Beyond the mist,

Engaged with the trees

In timeless union,

In renewed recollection

Of the harmonious whole,

And the permeating Soul,

So great in wonder,

And unmoving in motion.

MS23

 

Mother Earth