A trunk upon an endless plain,
with bark as rough as coastal rocks,
its reach so high it grazes sky
with roots like submarines in time.
I only see the things I see
when open are my eyes,
when eyelids I can prise
with tools of understanding.
I feel the touch upon my skin
when life sees fit to flit
upon my fingers and my toes
or when I’m typing out my prose
to hear the clacking of the keys,
unlocking learning, I can seize
the lessons learnt as every day
I stumble t'ward impressions
of perspicacious need.
Ambrosia to feed.
Derogatory greed.
I germinate the seed
to grow my tree upon my back,
an everlasting tome of truth
in rings and branches, epic proof
that words can be a world.
And so, in art, I find a core belief,
a perfect faith expressed in ev'ry leaf.
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