The Carving of the Wooden Mind
A tree is to the earth, as the mind is to soul,
Roots stretch deep and unseen, in soil’s quiet hold,
Branches reaching out like—a thought in endless flight,
Seeking nourishment, truth—in the dark and the light.
As the storms bend the boughs, minds too can bend and sway,
Under weight of worry, or heaviness of day,
But like the tree that stands, firm against heavy wind,
The mind, though tossed can find a strength carved deep within.
Leaves fall and then return, in a cycle of space,
Just as memories fade slowly, and new thoughts take their place,
The tree and mind are carved, each bound in endless strife,
One grows in earth’s embrace, the other grows in life.
WoPoLi 
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