tree

why am i here

why are you here

really, why are we here

to draw imaginary lines?

to put a price tag on a right?

to make a profit on a human need?

is someone listening?

the tree lives, then dies

we live knowing we will die-

then die 

every leaf on a tree,

every crack in its trunk

just is

the tree grows roots, gives life,

adds meaning and love to the living, breathing, pulsing collective-

by simply being.

they’re here-

to be noticed

to be touched, leaned against, climbed

to be loved 

to be nurtured

we hold all the power in the world-

yet we use it to create more suffering

haven’t we suffered enough?

when will the suffering of knowing we will die be enough?

what’s the point in any of this?