In the center
Of a field of dead weeds
Sits an old stump
One foot of rings
Circle
After circle
She sings
Of all that she sees
Up from that stump
Though unseen
Stands a mighty trunk
Arms waving
Embracing the sky
Outstretched toward the Sun
Two old friends
Sharing secrets
Of when time had just begun
Not appearing as much at all
In the field of dead weeds
Only one foot tall
Beneath the ground
It can be found
Her roots still anchored
True and sound
Deep
Deep
Down they stretch
Still holding on
To memories
Rushing winds
Exposing rains
Violent storms
Earths growing pains
Through the field of dead weeds
To the center
Walks an old man
Tired from his journey
He rests upon the rings
On closing his eyes
She sings
Circle
After circle
Of all that she's seen
The folding and unfolding
Time unravelling
Remembering what he already knew
The old man's spirit grew
Never had he been alone
Confusion gone
She sings him home
Her timeless tune
The very thread
Holding together
Every life he's ever led.
