CHILD OF THE TREES. 

Summer is here,

Shadows stretch long fingers on the brownish green grass.

Two large bodies on either side, tall, omnipresent, ancient. 

Dirt taut over brown feet, staining them grey,

Complete silence all around, eloquent in its primal beauty,

 With a purpose set on its preordained destiny,

To live, to breathe, to create.

The simplest of Nature’s decrees.

Air, dry and stale pushing you back and forth, swirling hair around an upturned face,

Sun beating down but not harshly, an overprotective mother laughing with her offspring.

Here there is no self, no responsibilities, and no troublesome feelings.

There simply is.

 And you dig your toes into cool dirt and reflect that this is a baptism in something besides water.

You feel closest to God here, where there is no noise.

Here is love in its simplest form, and it is simply there without complication or riddle, which comes so easily to native tongue.

The insects and birds above ignore as if you have stepped into their world,

We are all equal. Equally in awe.

The world is so beautiful.

We have everything we need, everything now and forever,

Among the trees there is no potential future, no scarring past.

Only the present moment.

No self, no righteous call, no obligatory duties to fulfill,

There is simply life. No rights nor wrongs, weakness and strength, wisdom or foolishness. 

There simply is.

The soil is dry and cool, flowing through your fingers and leaving permanent trails.

You are darkened, like the ghosts of your ancestors.

But you have no ancestors except these trees, which saw existence before man.

You are their offspring.

The offspring of deities that do not ruffle or cry out in the breeze, but stand firm and complain not when they are replaced.

Honor taught to us from the mouths of babes.

And here in this eternal beauty,

I have no self, no feelings, no destiny.

I simply am. I am the child of the trees.