125. The Melting Tree

I sat beneath a melting tree, 

that which was made from clay.

Though, as solid as it seemed, 

I knew that it would one day erode away, 

as all great things tend to do once they 

experience rain for the very first, 

and the very last time.

I listened for the pitter patter; 

the rat-tat-tat falling upon 

the melting matter that turned 

from clay into muddy water.

I knew soon that such a tree 

would no longer protect me,

as it would become a lonely stream 

that may carry me away.

I did not object, in hopes that 

one day I might return,

when the leaves upon the melting tree 

had grown anew, and the rain would 

cease to melt the lonely, hollow yew.

And my life would be finished,

as I have readied my urn.

To take me back to where 

I had been long before,

beneath the clay tree

that would seem to melt away

by the tears of its mother; 

and our mother, too.

And I would hope that one day

I may melt alongside you.