The Age of Unity

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A boy alone in the woods
hears ancient sounds, melodies,
songs of the dead
 
He waits for the answer
to the questions
his father breathed into him
 
And he will listen his whole life,
as patiently as a single tree
waits to become a forest
 
On the day he sat in the rain
with the sweetness of earth and trillium,
maples dripped rhymes on his tongue
 
A verse, a poem, a story
all pointing to what he would always know,
that nothing lives without the other
 
 
 

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