Monday, April 30, 2012

old tree

I look for meaning,
past decrepit buildings,
and dirty streets,
past faded friendships,
and twisted sheets,
but now I stand looking,
upon the old tree,
slowly dying,
years piled high,
still tall and free,

stop acting weird,
nothing's changed,
nothing's new,
between the "feeling good,"
and the "feeling blue,"
there's a build-up,
then a release,
then a straight line through.














 


2 comments:

Fisheye Lens said...

The ancient maple, older than anyone or anything I know, still stands, if a little less of it. Sometimes you need to embrace the irrationality of twisted Nature, and turn off the tap of Reason.

Old Ollie said...

solid lyrical style - bring that music