The Tree Of Life

The quake of the Earth told me of a little
seed that fell into the face of the deep
and caused a tsunami. This, he said, the wind
told me of a seed that slipped out of the packets
of a farmer. From on high, there were no more
waves, no more tides, but there was still life.

Rage was held back, for she only showed a
beautiful side of her emotions, forming seven
seas and five oceans. The twelve tribes and four
nations marvel at his devotion.

Trust that he wasn’t planted by a river or by the sea.
The place he fell will forever be the place she dwells,
in the scorching desert where the sun shines
with all its might, and it’s cold in the darkest nights.

She stands where there’s not a thing in sight.
Some call her the Divine Tree, others the Tree of Life.

Her roots spread as far as the east is from the west.
She held the moon in her left hand and
the sun in the next.

The stars made a black hole. As one died,
he birthed the rest. Even time and space were put
to the test. Space into time
became gravity law. Time that was given space
became lost in it. Death was an illusion.

Energy, well, that was the
Tree of Life, which means only death can die,
and without a shadow of a lie, she was watered
with the rain from a cloudless sky and grew
with the light of a firefly.

The ten plates showed her so much honor
and respect for evolving a dark wasteland
to the perfect sunset.

Some call her the Tree of Life.
I call her the Butterfly Effect.

Akeel Louison
Black Rose Archive