Arboreal Hymn

May I suffer well

As trees do

Rooted

Silent through the seasons

Stirring only with the wind

Weeping wisdom when it rains

Knowing growing is travail

And the play of forces, fate

Every shadow, every ray

Like a sculptor, giving shape

If I just be what I am

With my longings and dark urges

Reaching, reaching

For that star

Burning with an ancient love

Molten hymn of dying fusion

Giving, giving, giving

Light

Rooted

As trees are

May I suffer well