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Array
(
[sid] => 182033
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Untended Orchard
[time] => 2015-10-28 01:55:04
[hometext] => Tough even for me to define...I dig it though.
[bodytext] => A hearty sapling nestled once, in an orchard gaping silent thirst for wet, warmth, sun; fellow springy leafless kin two meters most unknown all new begun; soaked of same sun close by they be, ray to ray a year of earth, each and all to reach one full rotation's birth. Our hearty snappy sapling hero (Maybe villain? What is that? What is Hero?) made first cut with ease. Survivors grew, he with them years side by side but na' a friend. Time cost invoiced in loss as more fell round his ever thicker trunk withered unbereaved. Stay the course! 'Tis not of us we speak, but of only trees! Culled, thinned, Orchard deeded death Unheeded, not of an eon's breath, Orchard Master, Neon blinking, shouted “32 Red!”, “No, black!” He tossed, but we already lost (Yet He already knew, you see). Last seasons last picked peach, by thought now a shiny token rubbed 'tween finger thumb Supreme (irritating sandy fleck, Oh, mar the luck!) from pockets celestial deep. Saplings (No, not us!), of no more import than a grain of sand within a grain of sand on but one universal beach. Sun's seed from virgin leaves infused of muted youth, with spotted fawn, Sapling gone, grew thick amidst spindly fawning free- knowledge not impeding peace; Oh Deer, so dear you be. Knowing, human excrement; knowledge, stuff of lies and truth; Beings, Human's deign to reign, prance for prancing's sake exchanging value- life, life; (to us) invisible Orchard's gong, this gorgeous song at wind's baton unseen by most humanity focused on their dreams. But the living lives, Orchard's flora humming buzzing orchestral movement of and on the living floor, but not forever does such joy fling wide naive inviting door. Innocence to flee; so soon, to soon, to soon; mere seasons croon to youth in lure, diving headlong in pursuit of sparkling spinners, airs, weavers, shiny deceivers- Darwin wins (yet again) while those fall seeking what isn't here (or there) and never was. Some hide by going to Church. Some smile, blinding, holding the world at bay- Some run. Some Sneer. Some (perhaps fortunate) don't even know 'IT's' here. But, some swallow, open mouths define bark and bite to come for callow being's future self induced, based, quartered, lined- Oh, bereft politicians, Ponce de Leoners, defier of age deniers of truth, scalloped face more truth illumed than de jour de jure's Michelangelo's surgeon of youth. Kin still, in a larger sense, but leaves fall and spend then spent, land in different laps- To Cornell, Wharton perhaps? That fine yellow gold beauty to Ole' Miss. But the masses needn't move to attend Big Miss. These leaves that allow the whole to breathe, (some, most) let go sold low, “Oh, Supreme Being, I know, I know, foolishly low!” Knowing the soul, by virtue of being supreme value, is, Achilles like, immune to the concept of value- what can gauge what is itself incarnate? Such is the way of an untended orchard- Yours- once of many, then of few then of me (not real, but I feel). I trust, Supreme Being, you read 'Tree'. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 333 [topic] => 49 [informant] => invierno [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => mystical )
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