Whispers

She, the penetrating preacher, is my sanctuary
I spend my hours listening to her wistful whispers, in the hope of learning the ultimate truth.
Not the truth of learning or precepts,
I listen to hear the ancient law of life

If I learned to listen and forget my childish worries, perhaps I would hear her story
She might confess that a spark is hidden inside of her, one that is gained from eternal life.
She might reveal her uniquity, her exclusive veins that we call roots to hide her individuality.
She might show the abundance of life she has exuded, her thousand of children that are sprung yearly out of her.

Or she might just tell me to have faith.
Faith that god is inside of her.
Faith that she is more perfect than any human creation.
Faith that she will remain, until it is her time to go. 

When I have anxious thoughts, 
She tells me to let me speak from within her.
To grow and leave your house, city, country!
As home is neither here or there, but inside of you,

She is wiser than I am,
But she is willing to share her knowledge,
If you hear the dance of a tree, listen
Because it will bring you the incomparable knowledge that,
Humans must be who they are. Be wise and strong individuals, like she is.

Yet I may never hear these thoughts or learn these ideas,
She is being lost, her individuality being destroyed, her liveliness slew.
She and her many sisters are being slaughtered by humans who value only wealth,
Because they never had the patience to sit and listen to a tree.