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Updated Sometimes & Whenever

If a Tree Is What I Am Meant to Be

by Jones and Lambert

 

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Against time, my life is an unfocused, futile, flash.



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A quixotic snap of the bones in my fingers, made momentarily mobile by the meat pulleys that will soon deteriorate and erode.



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Leaving me motionless, forever.



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The matter that is me has spent, and will again spend, far more time composing stones and trees and soils than bones and knees and boils.



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If a tree is what I am meant to be, why not start acting accordingly?



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Tall, stoic, unmoving, unmoved.



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Existing, but not participating.



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Watching the temporary meat pulleys pull the bone puppets back and forth and all around as they shriek, squeal, and howl through their turbulent transience, headed straight into the ground.



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All of it unnecessary, and most of it unentertaining.



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If a tree is what I am meant to be, why not start acting accordingly?


January 23, 2017

 

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