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.

Soul of the Sol

Set with a moving

     painting in the sky,

     white canvas with

     endless borders blue.

     Apollo’s Picasso in the cloud.

          Atlas smoking

          pomegranate puffs.

-don’t mention the lighter

that ends the world,

     He may take it

     as his paintbrush

     for his final master piece.

Same old Sun set, 

yet lights anew for few

-don’t fear the dying sun

Look to fire in the sky,

Kindling for the Artist’s eye.