The Timber

Here today, the sky is gray.
The moon is calm, the trees too sway.

How is what I do so strange?
How does it get me so deranged?

It is, alas, a hard pursuit.
For that alone, can it be moot?

It’s something that I want to do.
Could there be anything more true?

I am the war within myself.
With pain, I find you are as well.

I long to mend the one of thine.
And keep and feed that of mine.

I need my war for impetus.
Yours destroys and cripples us.

Yours has rendered you a shell.
I see, though you will not tell.

These days have caused your soul to veer.
I pray it finds a way back here.

I won’t believe that you are gone.
Though I’ve not seen you for so long.

The wind shears leaves from the tree.
At once a death and setting free.

A little ways from a round,
A creature moves without a sound.

It will and does walk along,
Beneath a layered forest song.

Its song is joyful and it’s tragic.
Its beauty’s plain and dramatic.

Where, oh where could you be?
If I found you, I’d set you free.

If I could give my life for these.
At once I’d fall as leaf to breeze.