Monkey In The Tree

We are more than that before

The monkey in the tree

one grip hanging from a branch,

the other holds on 

to the third in his pants, 

naked limbs dangling, 

nature and happenstance...

what will become  

when he lets go,

something else fallen down

standing naked on the ground

palms empty and holding air

looking up since when he fell

wonder in the eyes, half scared

mute without a clue to tell

what is a monkey on the ground

without a tree or sky?

if I am more than those before

then my tree should be

Life,

so why even try to fly,

when all we grip are sticks and hate

hanging on a wire doomed,

fate repeats for monkey do

since power births great fire

Monkey without a tree

yearns for warmth

seeks it --climbing higher

dark thoughts are borne

anger storms

when rain defeats his fire...

better to just drink 

the wisdom of such ire...