The question's been posed.
Why do they carelessly pluck a rose?
Why do they chop down a mighty tree?
Why do they all wander aimlessly?
It's not about you,
Dear One with the thought.
It's not about you,
though you're worried and fraught.
Not really, at all,
though you stumble and fall.
Not really, you see,
just grow, like the tree.
Some trees manage to rise from a seed.
They blossom and fruit
meeting many a need.
meeting many a need.
They sway in the storms.
They sing in the wind.
They do it all once,
and then do it again.
Some have lived and then died
no one knowing they're there,
but for woodland creatures
like rabbits and bears.
The squirrels would have known,
perhaps planted, they did,
the tree in the forest
that lived and lived.
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