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Thoughts of Death

As the sun rises to start the day
A tree is outlined against the sky.
As it comes into the view of man,
It becomes a dark and lonely pine.

The last refuge for the lowering birds,
All alone in the midst of the field
The last shade for the wandering ant,
The last semblance of nature's yield.

Terrible desolation fills the air,
The old tree groans beneath it's weight.
As the soft earth below prepares to meet,
The tree leans down to reach it's fate.

As the tree has fallen to the ground
So must all men yield to the sands of time
But quite unlike 'the lone dark pine,
Man may leave behind a sign.

He may discourse the wonders of his life
Of the playful hours when he was young
When little children love the earth
For work, they played, and laughed, and sung.

This is the folly of mankind
Sheer terror for all who know it
They yearn to seek but never find
That which can save them from the pit.

But like the tree, all men must die
They try to 'scape the wrath of God
Too many fail, the serpent guides
He leads men to his Land of Nod.

Eternal suffering here they find
Is the reward for all their toil
The tree doth win, it shareth not
With men who scream, and bubble, and boil.

Because of my fears of God above,

For the simple life of the tree I yearn

That which may live and die in peace,

And not forever burn. -Richard Lum