The Old Tree

The scruffy old tree sits struggling to stay upright and alive
Separated by just a few yards of green, we regard each other

Both have known full lives though now bent and twisted
Having no other point reaching for the sky fully hopeless

The pine not moving – me fearing to ever stop, we have gone far.
aged now seen as useless understanding unimportance’s value

Wood too bent for any use, a fortress that was never assailed
Old battles fought on ego’s field are revisited I ponder the truth

Saying nothing that old tree told everything necessary to know
knowledge of real beauty shone around us in that kindred moment

Outcomes are the plaything of small souls, only living has meaning
At the end, it is the most useless that have touched the universe.