The Tree And Man
There are trees
And there are trees.
Some have spirits, they live longer
Fighting the fist of death
Gasping in the rains
And holding the ruins of the harmattan . . .
Some have souls, they are sentimental
They cry during every summer
They cherish their broken hearts
Never nursing the pains
From stubborn satanic misconceptions . . .
Every rope of man
Is a trap
for the neck.
We see life and the haunt begins
We dream death and the love regerminates . . .
All things are animate
The untarred road
The dust wired net
The lost shoe
The rain beating sign post
Are parables that shall unite this memory
When the tale is told once more . . .