Vessel to be filled…
Hollow the tree,
fallen in silent devastation,
and in wet tendril embraced decay
it lay, void of its once vibrant life,
now shelter for a menagerie,
life within life fallen,
new growth out of pity’s sweet legacy.
Hollow the heart,
fallen from love’s enticement,
then in lies betrayed and in decay
to lay, void of motivation,
now a dark void of numb regret,
life scarred and empty
till love’s legacy of love replaces.
Hollow we are if we think
anything will save us,
for tis we who devise our course,
give and take and expect,
yet we are the hand of fate,
to make our bed and lay upon it,
the curse upon ourselves.
Hollow is the tree,
yet is serves purpose, even in death,
as we in arrogance plunder life
and expect too much,
without an effort or purposeful deed,
to embody and reflect the honourable life
of a simple tree.
Tony DeLorger © 2016
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