Trees

In my youth, I would
Contemplate from atop
Weather-worn trees

Leaning over the edge
Of jagged seashore cliffs
And I listened to hidden

Whispers sounded by
Tidal winds speaking of
Mysteries buried within

My consciousness for me
To uncover in such moments
I was inclined to do so, but

I thought differently
Ten thousand years ago
When I was younger

As I hadn’t met myself
And could not yet see how
My emptiness grew me


© Rob Taylor, 2017

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