Sincerity
A lone tree wading,
Amongst the endless sea of air.
Stationary, living and being.
Understanding the world through scent laid bare.
Of knowledge of the world the scents are administering.
Of knowledge of the world the tree slowly became aware.
Of the scent of blood and smoke, it was not lamenting,
Never becoming what it sees, only wanting to stare.
Of the scent of sweet and fragrance, it was not rejoicing,
Never indulging, only appreciation to declare.
Although weathered by all that is advancing and advocating,
Still it stands, rooted in its deeply sought lair.
In itself and to itself, it holds understanding,
And that is its only care.
A tree, afterall, is for tree-living.
In its own embrace it can grow to become rare,
It is sincere to what is its own being,
That is why it is strong and upright over there.
