The Tree Within


  • Allegory

    The Tree Within

    As seen through the eyes of my best friend, as she inspired me.

    The Tree Within

    I have a private path that I always make time to journey

    Only my footsteps have ever traveled the trodden stones that serve as boundaries to the sacred place.

    Each blade of grass is gracefully bowing the direction that I walk with respectful isolation.

    With silent steps, my thoughts echo noiseless against breezes that have voices of their own.

    I must make a quiet quest when the stresses of reality weigh heavy and the world’s compression becomes too much to bear.

    The carpet underfoot is an accumulation of fallen leaves that have bid me greeting each time that I have previously passed.

    The trees welcome me with their donations as I come to shed; I must shake each dead leaf of despair.

    I have been to the birthplace of my spirit many times and each experience is as if I have arrived a new.

    Shadows stretch out to offer clues to take me to the root for which I have come to rest upon.

    Under the shade I will lay my burdens and meditate.

    As I sit upon a chair of earthly woven arms that extend from her stem, I nestle close to feel the pulse of the life within.

    With eyes shut and mind wide open I become one with the breath of the solitary.

    Broken dreams are mended at the foundation to reform as new limbs of inner strength if offered without reserve.

    Here is where I am ordained to be when my soul has been drained, for I am reminded without word that my branches are made to bend and that I will not break if I have faith of things unseen.

    Now sensing my weakness she beckons me to her other side to lie beneath her.

    She begins to caress my body with exuded peace, and undress my soul to purify my core.

    I become embodied in this translucent tree, now able to see right through to find a greater me.

    The solitude is slowly broken as the last of her tokens is offered.

    Floating from her highest living nerve she releases the skin of her being to land upon my chest.

    A leaf that will never hit the ground, a gift incarnate which when delivered home will serve as a testament until the path to the tree in me must be rediscovered.

    As I prepare to go I touch the breast of her trunk with human hand, feeling the grains and righteous rings ingrained upon her face, not weathered with time but made more beautiful with nature’s grace.

    I whisper thank you, and she brushes by with soft wind as she bows.

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    Olan01 commented on The Tree Within


    Wonderful, lovely and insightful of one who knows their true self and remember the path to its discovery. Well done.

    mindy9968 commented on The Tree Within


    I really like this. It's simple, but full of depth and raw emotion. Very nice. It calms me to just read it.



    This is from the Native American side of my heritage - though I am long removed by the gene pool from my roots... the spirit still lives within. Thx again!

    earthly commented on The Tree Within


    simply serene! I love trees and you examined extensively the life and breadth of the soul of a tree...Earthly



    Trees and ones earthly spirit are often one indeed... Thank you for your insight.

    inkmaster commented on The Tree Within


    Very profound.I loved I have been to the birthplace of my spirit killer thinking man...You made me think.....Inkmaster



    The American Indian heritage that blesses me with a deep spiritual outlook on life walked me down this journey and I am glad that you have shared your time with me. Thank you!

    Chaos128 commented on The Tree Within


    According to the latest new age ontology, we've all got spirit animals curled up inside of us, motivating our actions. It's only right that the flora should get the same chance that all the imaginary fauna gets; an inner tree providing shade, sustenance and stability. I'm all for it! Good call, Soulman!



    Thank you once again, I am pleased and thankful for your comments.

    If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.

    Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) American poet.

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