Last Sunday I happened upon a pine,
And began to climb the tree.
I climbed until my friends below
Had all forgotten me.
I climbed until I met the birds
Whose silence is a drought,
Of beauty, hope, and all the things
I could not live without.
I met the wind who roams and runs
Like a captive newly freed,
But who wishes he could take some time
To stop,
To rest,
To breathe.
I climbed until I met the sky,
And the air began to thin,
I heard rain clouds singing softly,
As my head began to spin.
I climbed until I met the stars,
Who whispered gentle prose.
Their light filled me with comfort,
As my eyes began to close.
Last Sunday I happened upon a pine,
And as I climbed the tree,
I met the inky void of death,
And I was truly free.
