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Here I stand upon my hallowed mount.
I heard the wisp'ring wind and gusts of cool
Air, filling and fresh'ning the forest. I count
The leaves that cling to my limbs, all while pools
Of water glist'n below my roots.
I feed, and let my thirst be quenched for now,
Building up my health, readying to drop my fruit
For 'tis my joy to share my wealth
With those who sit beneath my bough.

A bird appears and sings upon my arm
To all my friends and neighbors that I dearly love.
Its tune so sweet, with simple charm,
That all the trees rejoice, and praise the birds above.
But all good things must end in time,
And birds must fly again with flock
So this fair creature lifted off with one last chime,
And sailed away
In clouds of dust and rock.

The season comes and carries me to wistful sleep
It strips me bare, naked from that which gives me life.
The depth of my dreams haunts me - it creeps
Over my skin, and keeps my rest from being rife.
And so I wait - for centuries, it seems.
I look into the past, remembering the verve
That I once knew. Rememb'ring sunlight's gleams.
So swiftly did those days desert my mind.
I must remember; I must preserve.

Unto the future now I look.
So many things that I will see again:
The wind, the bird, the pools, the brook.
So much is new, though - so much I've yet to gain
For sleep does not last forever;
Life will always drop its seed once more
And start it on a new endeavor.
Perhaps one day it will find its way
To endless lands, and sound its roar.

-Phil