There are these trees in Sydney
that captivate an essence.
They erupt forth from their massive centers,
branches hurtling for the sky,
touching it and falling short all at once.
Dark white bark envelopes this creature
like pale, leathery skin; joyously aged.
Your cacophony of limbs wraps around me,
oh living thing,
like the warm heartbeat of a friend.
Painted on its tips, a thousand small (green) fragments;
infinitely different shades of one sweet voice.
Oh hot breeze, you stir me forth
from this forgotten forest.
It is the bat, in a resounding hit, connection –
the wind a supple amplification.
The earth below me slowly shifts,
as the snakes grow from tree bottoms,
bringing life to the towers,
yet dying, to escape.
Their heads break surface
and mirror the netted canopy above.
The trees surround and smother,
as I suffocate on oxygen – and –
the horrifying, miraculous
unknown of life.
Tense, I cannot move, for fear of proving
I am not as important as they.