Chimaera

Wrinkles Of The Oak

Chimaera


Our life is like an old oak, 
we have roots, dug in the soil 

Roots in the middle of soft ground 
and other around rocks 
But sometimes they're cutted down or rot, 
'cause they can't survive 
in those environment 

We have trunk, strong, hard, 
but that bleeds, blaze, 
and leave on us marks, forcing us to remember 

We have branches, long, 
that reach remote distances 
Some are beautiful and loaded, 
other twisted and sickned 

Some strong and trusty, 
other not much 
We have fruit, sweety, balmy 
Some are bitter and poisonous, 
some will rot, some will fall, 
some will mark it deeply those 
who taste them 

We have leaves 
that get lost if the wind is too strong, 
or if some part of the tree has been hurt 

That feel and fall 
for having no more life, 
choking and drying little by little... 

The fruit... 
The branches... 
The trunk... 
The roots... 
Leaving the tree dryed and dead 

Sometimes we can see our leaves falling, 
our fruit rotting, our branches wriggling, 
our trunk marked and our root torn to pieces 

But we still have seeds, and if 
our tree hasn't been planted, 

it's fall will fertilize the soil, 
where another tree can live...