Third Time & Roots.

The third time wasn’t exactly the charm,

But things are better than before.

As the fall melts into winter and I ponder:

What’s it like to know and to see and to feel?

I know what is there,

And I see what is there,

And I feel it too.

What of those things, though,

That cannot be seen or felt or heard?

 

How I wish I could see as a child

And live as a tree,

Breathing God through my branches and

Life through my leaves;

Roots in the soil,

I could be free.

Author's Note

These two pieces don't fit perfectly together, but I don't think they can stand on their own. Thoughts?