Sometimes a mother tree is felled Cut down with love or in hate By the natural way of things No rhyming the chaos occurred Infinity itself takes the out In some other reality all is together Sometimes suffering is sensical Astral collisions rightly ensue Planets clash exactly as needed Wind blows through tall reeds Birds sing soft some ways off A witness wanderer walks on by Sometimes a seed lands just so Burrows atop the welcoming stump To take root and be protected there 2024, November 18th, Monday—Walking Toward A Temple