not my photograph…
Translated…
Every Tree in the Wilderness
Are the Folks Who Were Never, Called Back
It’s Easy, to Wait, Endlessly
Doubting Oneself
Until the Self Had, Turned into, a Plant
Before the Countdown
Everybody Gathered
Discussed, How S/he is to Keep Oneself Hidden
A Person Started Imitate the Fog
Soft and Mild, Easily, Penetrated
One Mimicked the Grounded Dusts
In the End, He’d Managed to, Successfully, be Closer to the Universe
You’d Found a Hiding Place Inside that Box
Lay There, Steadily
Actually, We All Knew, Where You’d Hid
Just Didn’t Want to, Bust Your Covers
We’d Pretended to Look for You
Written Our Letters to You Too
The Pen that Burned Like the Flames Had
Smoked All the Words Black
We’d Sent Someone to Recite
Aloud, the Documents You’d Left Behind
The Voice was So Monotonic that It’d Become, the Sound of the Trees, Getting Chopped Down
Then, We’d, Planted You, Back into the Earth
Each and Every Year Now, We Wait, for You, to Start Budding
Waiting for You, to Become, that Warm Tree
This would be, a good way, to remember someone who’d died, and, spreading the ashes onto the earth is actually a very good way, to keep the life cycle going, because the ashes of the ones you love will become nutrients for the trees, and, the trees will grow each and every year, and, the individual who’d died really is still alive, because her/his ashes had become, a part of, something living, a tree!
Life, the Obstacle Course 