Dark Soil
Jul 23rd 2010
The trees are a mighty audience,
they stand as firm reminders to a potential of height.
Their peaks:
baby-ripe, future-loaded, ready to jump 200 feet to a death and let it begin again.
and I stand here quietly waiting to speak my piece.
I realize this audience has little cares for my sounds.
Trees know up
and they know still standing.
Both stand in relation to our down and movement.
Do we know up?
Do we know when we’re growing into ground?
But trees grow ground bound too,
silently, out of sight, entrenching,
their down growth providing stability and foundation.
*
Brooding in our dark soil,
what hidden growth of foundations
obscured below light, keeps us afloat?
A tumor of subconscious?
An undergrowth of permanence?
A dark but necessary aspect of character?
Or merely a structure to see that we never completely float away?
Because as we move there is stability,
a hidden stillness that composes all movement.
The stillness of not-me.
The stillness of death to nurture all around me.
The stillness of certitude
unvacillating secure thoughts grounded firmly in tradition.
Floating away brings permanent death too quickly.
Whereas the stillness of certitude is forever caring for it wants to see a longevity of dreams.
But lets not forget about the virtues of a quick death.
(although about this trees knows very little)
For it is a philosophy of movement.
Use yourself up and nurture everything around you as a fire of frenzy sprouts up tiny new growths.
Use all of yourself up so concentratedly that you are as imperceptible as the parts of a flame.
Which death do you chose?