journal

.dagbe neva: an ode to a dead tree.

it just is, we just are

 

nothing makes a whole,

and a whole makes nothing but this.

unknown place where you go to,

 

i heard is fulfilling.

your spirit dances, your spirit dances to dirge

your body rests, your body rests in a bossom.

is death really haven, what about lose

may be that is haven too, but to the lost

 

is death really haven, what about lose

may be that is haven too, but to the lost

 

tree roots lying restlessly on the surface of earths naked body

makes me rememebr when i first held you.

a skin as smooth as powder was suddenly rough as this tree's bark

and you became frail as though you neva ate food.

did you actually eat food ?

 

in my arms you rested as mom fed you water

 

(who would have thought water had become your only food in your last days)

 

water

 

the way of life clearly didnt give you life.

and on that warm evening you went looking for your nothing that made you whole

 

death just is,

and we just are

 

dagbe neva

dagbe neva

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dagbe neva

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