My Tree


While falling down,
I shall look at you
slowly flying around,
like a circling memory;
while the earth
is coming closer
at every turn on myself.

The grass is waiting
and worms are greeting
the wind holds me
one moment more.

My tree!
It will be different
to look at your roots
without seeing the sun
getting no lymph from you.

But only then,
indeed,
I'll give you all myself
letting you absorb me
in a dance
of subtle chemistries.

Changing
is now my life.