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Up I climb, into the skies. Spent some time as mother’s eyes. Shared her breath, my legs they hung. Spent some time as mother’s lung.
Tall as mountains and Strong like a boulder. Listen to them, for they are older. Hard as wood but Soft as a lung. Here is where those monkeys hung. Deep as roots and Old as earth. It is to them, whom we owe our birth.
This is me, I am but a tree. With my roots in the ground, I am able to grow round. Through the winter cold, until the river runs bold. My branches are strong, by the wind they sing a song. Of patience and realness, and love for stillness.
