Don’t mistake the rain soaked valley
with hard paved streets,
people entranced by things.
Below the cracked sidewalks
roadside trees push out their roots,
thickening, lengthening
until with the strength of water
they shatter their carapace.

Beneath the concrete skin
arteries pump with life,
microbes teem and swirl
rebuilding the ancient city
with unseen magic.

Upside down the tree of life
grows into the earth,
spreading branches
and flowering the fruit
known long ago as knowledge
to rise in the mountains
and be read leaf by leaf
by the shaven monks
of eternity.

 

photograph by Dennis Brown

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reading of “Rebuilding the Ancient City” with music by Nicolas Jaar.

 

 

10 Responses

  1. Don, “shaven monks of eternity” is a great image, especially for one who may be a male pattern baldness monk of something. Thanks.

  2. In the lyrics of that classic Broadway song, “I Talk to the Trees”, the singer (whose consciousness seems concretized with woe) accuses the trees, the stars, and even the gentle breezes of not listening to him. O Contraire! Creation hears just fine! All the while, monks of Eternity abiding here on Earth can innately outwait and outweigh any accusation, blame or criticism. Thank Heaven!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *