The Riddle of Trees

The eyes that see no breath misting before the air beneath,

The sound, whispers of the trees, ancient and weathered their frozen stare,

The secret, cryptic riddle scored and carved into the timeless skin,

The rope, the way to breach beyond; those limbs reach deep beneath the world

Heedless of footsteps in the wild the branches creak and sway,

Needle-pine carpet now threadbare;

Birch and Willow, Oak enthroned,

Seeing, singing silently of All That None Shall Know

Calling softly into whispering woods, the longing uttered silently,

Threading through thicket, stand and grove; the spirit journeys on,

To Birch and Elm and Oak behold,

Traveller, where no human thought has dwelled

The eyes behold the death of life renewed in empty air,

The sound, whispers of the heart unlocked, ensconced the wooded realm,

The secret, cryptic spirit-song inscribed in timeless kin,

To grow, to stretch, transverse beyond;

Those limbs reach deep within the world

Lychen-coats and moss-clad arms unfurl, embracing eternity,

When gone is man, the bark-clad stand, alone, to watch the ages

They ask the question without speaking,

They know the answer without hearing,

They shift the world without moving,

They hold secrets without knowing.

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