{Of course,
For The Branches,
with so much more love
than words will ever hold}
with so much more love
than words will ever hold}
The Spirit Tree forever lives -
and then again and again,
so do we.
The Spirit Treeis where we build our nest -
through the rays and the glows
of the solstice’s test...
the folds of the
branches will never be blown bare
by the bitter north wind,
nor the southern flame and flare.
The Spirit Tree
firms its roots in the soil of life;
it bares stories in the forms of
leaves, flowers, fruits, and strife,
that fall into the spiral
of new buds and "remember whens" - a song
in the form of storms
growing a history deep and strong.
The Spirit Tree
is alive with laughter ringing,
baking bread, holy water,
and voices singing -
it soaks up the rays and the rain and
the tears and the pain;
with the cries of birth, death, and waiting
running in its veins.
The Spirit Tree
is here, and it is now:
echoing in a chorus of
everyday, eternal sounds:
we hold and are held by these branches
from where we first fell down,
from where we first flew up; and
from where the bees hum to the rhythm of the woodpecker’s drum.
The Spirit Tree
is not a mystery,
but a common vow that rests
in the nests of the chicks and maturity -
eternity round the rings of its trunk.
It paints the sky with rainbows; pages
of bark decorated with blossoms held together
with woven memories through the ages.
The Spirit Tree
cannot be seen
except in the form
of you and me,
where if you look closely,
your heart’s eye can find my soul’s mind;
it can picture a place
that gives our soul breath and through our’s, thrives.
The Spirit Tree never dies -
and then again and again,
