Existing and wandering,
Here and there, alone;
No one to talk to
While mind moaned.
I travel and travel
In the subtle rain in sunset,
Until I came across
A delusional set.
Lied there,
A tree and three loos.
Two destroyed and one remained.
I sat on the loo,
With regret and pain.
Until the tree spoke
With a soothing,
Comforting voice.
“Sleep doesn’t help
My tired soul.
Leaves keeps
Falling and falling and falling,
With no roots in confinement
As me the janitor,
I clear and clear.
No hands to help me,
No ears to listen to me,
No soul to support me.”
Smiled the tree
With gentleness,
And whispering,
“Yet here you still are,
That is what makes YOU a MAN!”
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