I Am A Silent Observer

A poem

I am an old oak with branches reaching wide, like arms outstretched.

Golden light dances across my bark, as the warmth penetrates to my core.

My trunk is solid rooted to the earth. As I stand tall,

stable, safe, I am aware of the shade beneath my leaves.

I am a silent observer… of the people who have found refuge in the shelter under my boughs.

I watch the world below, as its characters, conversations, and complications move across the ground.

I am a silent witness… of the sickness and disorder of humanity that exist in the darkness of my shade.

I remain strong, tall — my crown reaching toward the heavens and farther outward still,

as the star that holds me in its light is connected to other white spheres throughout the known universe.

And I know the earthy constants… The rain and the soil sustain us. The darkness exists so we may know the light —

sunlight’s all-encompassing embrace, and moonlight’s illumination of our magical truths.

May we all believe in the fortitude of our mental trees, releasing anger, ego, and judgment —

Let them fall to the ground to decay, recycling into the same earth that nourishes and stabilizes us all at once.

I am a silent observer.