On a withering branch

Of a lonely tree

Your mother’s silk wove a net so deep

She spun it back across the leaves

And tied the knots

Where you would sleep.

A thousand souls suspended high,

 Tucked into the softest white

Left to themselves

In the forest night.

And so you slept

Not knowing yet

The sweetness of life

Or the risk of death

Waiting outside your mother’s nest.

That’s how you stayed until the wind shook your branch

You wiggled and squirmed in your

Mother’s own dance.

You opened your eyes

To your seventh Sun

And stretched your body to the sky

You escaped the nest.

And along with the rest,

You began to climb.

And this is the greatest trip.

The drama of life.

You never could know

What was down the line…

Because you melted into concrete

You survived hungry ants

You drank dew drops in moonlight

As moths blindly danced

Through the sky that once bound you

High in that tree

That your mother once climbed

Where she left you to be.

You ate through the day

And you shuffled over sand

You blistered and bled

And you found a new branch

On a lonely tree

Your silk wove a net so deep

You spun it back across the leaves

And tied the knots

Where they would sleep.

A thousand souls suspended high,

 Tucked into the softest white

Left to themselves

In the forest night.