Poezja

They felled a huge tree. 
Some Druid feared that it had an afterlife 
and it sleepwalked at night 
but it was me. 
My tracery 
my shade. 
 
Beyond the sounds I had landed 
here as a seed. 
Today I am visiting my ancestral home 
my walls and my soil 
I am I was. 
 
I am in every tree 
every tree was me 
a mute, silent submission of learning 
the first translator of nature 
the sculptured journey in time. 
 
Destruction and eternal fall 
I want not to happen 
still it goes on 
masterpiece of death.