O, merciful sky where the clouds drift
We cannot foresee the forbidden forest
That grows from roots in the heart
It was an attempt to seek heaven
But not every tree has the same strength
To pierce the air, to peek the world
The trees grow with dancing passion
Not to be upright, but twists of enchanting bodies
To sway serenity till spring away
The old tree barks shed into pile crusts
Becoming dusts that manure the roots
In every rotation of the moon and the sun
They preserve their wits
A flame of the veiled essence
As silent as the spark of candle
in the dark
To sublime the wilderness into the merciful sky
Till new lives arise
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Poetry Prairie – 2015
Poetry Prairie 