the red tree is dying

across fields of memory. to oceans of the mind.
the red tree is dying, the waters move to tide

heaving, sighing, crashing, foaming
the sea breathes in, subsides.
all is quiet now.

the stormy weather of our discontent-
our misintent- all come to failed resolve
all is quiet now.

breathing in now, like the sea
knowing the briefness of the pause,
that soon will be stirred up again
tormenting and unresolved.

the red tree is dying
though the sun is still warm
the world still moves in one direction-
steadfast, unyielding to that which can't keep up

the churning tide, a tumultuous mind
to move with the sea of thought is aching
unfulfilled, the unending cycle
the ebb and flow that never moves ahead
only back and forth, back and forth
heaving, sighing, crashing, foaming

the red tree is dying
and all is quiet now.