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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2014-03-12 | | Imagine their roots... Abiding deep like hands With fingers grasping every inch of dirt... Long, curling nails avoiding stones, And bones, and rotting earthworms. Mean tentacles with disrespect For any other creature needing soil And water; dark tenants from another Underworld... You cut the leaves, the spreading branches, And everything under the sun, To leave the root, alone reminder Of an embrace too frail to last... When the last bell shall have had tolled its laughter, And all the birds will have had nested anyway, Torn out, the crown of roots shall tell the story Of who we are beneath the grass... Picture courtesy of: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/77/Uprooted_tree_001.jpg
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