Destcop

Here I am, sitting at this lunch table

Looking around, everything seems in its perfect place.

Yet, when I look deeper I know it’s not that simple, or stable.

Each person, all of them with a hurricane inside but an unchanged face.

It tares me apart,

Knowing that those all around me

Have a terror in their hearts

That I can’t do a damn thing about, except, be.

Then I look at the trees again

And realize how they do just that.

Regardless of the season, they are present and sustain.

No needs for wise words or chit chat.

I aspire to be like the trees.

That strong beautiful existence found almost everywhere, putting everything at ease.