The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling.
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven,
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.

-W.Shakespeare

Monday 10 February 2014

Immortalitree

We are the Earth.
From dust to dust, 
As we must.

Still earth is alive with you.
Wooden coffin holds a tree,
With seeds above, dying to be free.

Bones buried, will rise again.
We grow with our demise,
With the leaves up to the skies.

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