The Green

You know not of what You speak

I says to Me.

Clearly as eyes can see, I hear Me

Speaking to Myself in sleep,

dreaming realities.

Manifested destinies yet to be realized,

While real eyes dive into horizons

Beyond the line of sight,

Over the infinite sea of time,

Says I to Myself what might

Be? What Will we may hold tight to

This soul, seeking these known

Inevitabilities, while casually

Planting seeds of literal trees

Towering high for they have already

Grown, and bloomed, and died, over a thousand

lives between the spaces in solid

Stone,

Nerves of the mother Earth, intertwined

Until they too become bones buried and fossilized by the perpetual cycle of

Moons glow and suns shine.

And so we shall stay, casually planting seeds

Of literal trees to plant seeds of their own

For Light begat Life, for Life begets Light.