Thought (Untitled)

And, this is how our story began:
Father spade earth to mark the paths
Where slumbered his ancestors
And, I, a tree of memory held
As the setting sun cast us
Into silhouette of remembrance.
He mumbled silence into
A trailing voice of echoes
That to my heart oft resonate
With his unclad sorrow;

_''When nature bids come to you_
_And grief, your soul seems to sue_
_Bury your seed to grow some nests;_
_A tree where every living soul rests_
_Be it in the twilight void of moon_
_Son, you'd grow to remember soon_
_That every path treaded your feet_
_Was a journey of life's defeat ."_


el cypher.