The Willow

The willow sits atop the hill
  silently waiting, alone and still.
From this perch one could see
  everything below this tree.
The field, the town, the distant hills
  all the birds who sing in trills.

One may say unto this tree,
  "What a view, here I feel free."
But lonely he sits, days in and out
  waiting for one to figure out:
Here he sees everything,
  news to him the birds do bring.

Just once he says," Please come to me
  for I alone can set you free.
My embrace awaits those weak at heart;
  please just come and let me start.
Let me show you what you need,
  show you it was always me.
I alone know all at stake,
  sit beneath me, take a break.
I know by now, you have not been shown
That this, my shade, can lead you  home."

Then one day comes a lonely old man
  holding no more than the staff in his hand
He sits beneath the shade of the tree
  looking around at all he could see
Eyes upturned, how heavy his heart,
  softly he whispers, "Oh, where do I start.."
Beneath this willow the old man brings
  the things attached to him like strings.

The willow sits- patient, all-knowing-
  listens to the man tell where he's going.
Here the man lies burdens and stories
  though he's weak, he tells of his glories
As he goes on, a glazed look in his eyes
  he slowly slips away, til soon his soul flies.
The willow stands tall, with pride in his heart
  "I told you I knew, straight from the start.
Now you believe me, now you know
  only I know where you go."