The trees of life have eclipsed the wood,
Protecting what ought not be saved,
Saving what ought to be sighted,
Committing dedication but missing the wood.
A plethora of trees breathe life into us,
Beckoning us-Singing songs of wedded glory,
Some are separate dirges- best kept away,
After a solemn urging for a brief lapse.
Moods come and go with the whimsical wind,
Few are well grounded to sustain the storm,
Others swing for a breeze and to their fancy,
And are shortlived by their wild gestures.
Disaster strikes- a fire breaks out balefully,
Panic is more widespread than the fire,
The wood now looks bigger than the trees,
Flames are everywhere but sadly everyone’s rooted.
The mind’s eye has now broadened its horizons,
For it’s now opened itself to the bigger picture,
The roots are left behind for an indelible past,
The wood can be seen-and it’s too late.