The Prince of Milk

Without a shadow of a doubt

Another decade gone

Other humans past, they all seem the same at this point

Time is an illusion that they use to rationalize their senseless and ephemeral existence

Lower organisms so convinced about their superiority

Bloody brilliant we are, they say, then turn around to prove themselves wronger than before

I am tired of their display, I am fed up

They pass me every day, none smart enough to look and unlock the secrets hidden within them

Poets have come and gone, philosophers have played their clever games, patting themselves on the back

None the wiser, never the wiser

But I am everywhere and nowhere at the same time

The soil I inhabit undiscernible from what I am, I do not remember what parts are me anymore

It makes me wonder if I am what I hate in hindsight- them

Only one , has caught my eye and it knows nothing of it

Frequently it came under my shade , the unhappiest creature known

Unappreciative of all around her other than me

It viewed the world through my lens and wished to be me

Human life is rife with suffering, and all suffering is exacerbated by them

I hate humans but love only that creature which came one summer morn

And sat under my arms, outstretched and willing, to find refuge and comfort

But ages sloppily stutter to their ends and humans are unable to catch up even with the footsteps

It is gone, and will never return.

But I hold the fragment of its touch within me as long as the ages permit its commemoration

And as long as I can remember who I am.

A lonely tree who is all the worse for my burden of knowledge, neither going nor growing and all the same in the eyes of time.