Do I stand amongst the trees,
With roots deepened in time,
Shall I sway in the breeze?
And branch out my arms, intertwined?
For if every leaf served its purpose,
Hidden within the miniscule,
Flourishing or drying, an opus,
Reverberating across the faint and the full.
I am made up of worlds upon worlds,
An infinity within this nothingness,
A spatial distance, we twist and twirl,
But my heart creates, flawless in fullness,
A thought manufactured through origins of past,
A sense of knowing all but truths,
For what makes something real and last,
Is the very emotions we fuel.
The symbols to believe do not matter,
And yet the complexity simplified through being,
That flood, overwhelming from within, the only factor,
Their truths are the only realness worth feeling.
Drown in the pain and struggle,
Fly with the joy and bliss,
Like a river, there is a source, so subtle,
A connection to the divine exist.
With roots deepened in time,
Shall I sway in the breeze?
And branch out my arms, intertwined?
For if every leaf served its purpose,
Hidden within the miniscule,
Flourishing or drying, an opus,
Reverberating across the faint and the full.
I am made up of worlds upon worlds,
An infinity within this nothingness,
A spatial distance, we twist and twirl,
But my heart creates, flawless in fullness,
A thought manufactured through origins of past,
A sense of knowing all but truths,
For what makes something real and last,
Is the very emotions we fuel.
The symbols to believe do not matter,
And yet the complexity simplified through being,
That flood, overwhelming from within, the only factor,
Their truths are the only realness worth feeling.
Drown in the pain and struggle,
Fly with the joy and bliss,
Like a river, there is a source, so subtle,
A connection to the divine exist.
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