Maple to Paper

Maple moored by moonlit midnight Make me move more mindfully Down the detour, dodging darkness Damning doom, decidedly I see eyes in layered branches High in my periphery Shifting as the crosswinds hurry Always catching up with me Could a masterpiece like this Be cut down to make magazines? Stripped and chipped, washed and bleached And pumped onto a moving screen? Does the maple know the paper Far beyond its former form? More-so made by non-tree things Who am I to say the tree is gone? Does a tear long for the ocean, Or relish in sweet separateness? Do we trust in what's left over When making sense of impermanence? Is presence only present tense Or does a memory really bring me back to you? Did the parts of you that faded Carry through another way? Where does light go when it leaves us? Is that you here in her face? I will guide her way with patience But where's the tree that carried me? Gone in touch, trapped in stillness Here in thought infinitely. Sickness was my little sister When she too grew patiently Cradled in your warm embrace And cut out quickly, just like me Does the cinder know the ember Far beyond its former form? More-so made by non-flame things Who am I to say the ember's gone? Does a tear long for the ocean, Or relish in sweet separateness? Should we trust in what's left over When making sense of impermanence? Is presence only present tense Or does a memory really bring me back to you?"