Ashes, ashes

Wrote this on my cell-phone as I was experiencing it. Strange, huh?

Sitting here,

I see

trees, brush, greenery

sweeping, like the Spirit,

over the valley.

 

Leaves, vines, roots

undulate

above and beneath

the earth,

caressing it gently,

gripping

with a firm and tender love.

 

I see, also,

these same trees,

immolated,

burning in an all-consuming flame.

 

As I breathe in, out,

I watch the branches,

the trunks,

fall, black,

into ash.

 

Soon,

there is nothing left.

Nothing,

save soot, filth,

and dust.

 

But as I gaze upon the valley,

green,

a small portion

of ash from my cigarette

falls slowly, resting upon a budding leaf.

 

I sigh,

brush the stain away,

stand,

and turn to go back inside.

Author's Note

A little more basic than some of my other stuff--my biggest fear is that it comes off as childish. But whatever. I'm just trying to throw up everything I can find on my computer. Realizing I have more poetry than I thought. Did a lot of work last year.