My Poetry Collection

Hollow Oak

Buddhism, in my opinion, is by far the most beautiful belief system.

The idea that my soul is a permanent mark upon this Earth is astounding.
A guarantee. A forever and always.

The idea that I could one day be a Live Oak tree. 
Limbs stretching out for miles, coated and dripping in Spanish moss.
Flourishing in the humidity and watching as the years pass by. 
Watching as my leaves turn from green, to red, to brown. 
Watching as the grass around me turns from green, to brown, and then back to green again with various little flowers sprouting around the blades of grass, wind blowing dandelion seeds through the air. 
Watching as a young bird nuzzles a nest into my branches and begins to start a family there. 
Watching as those young birds grow up and find another tree to start a family in.
Watching as a little child takes cover behind my trunk in a game of hide and seek.
Then watching as this child grows a bit, and begins to look up at my branches, deciding they would climb to the top and pronounce themself emperor of the world.
They would eventually outgrow climbing trees, and rather sit under their shade and read.
Then they would go on and do great things. Climb taller trees.
And I would remain there. I would continue to watch the seasons roll into each other. I would continue to watch the birds grow their feathers. I would watch more children grow up and find better places. 

I would watch for a million years until my leaves stopped growing and my branches are pronounced hollow and breakable.

And then I would come back as something else. It would never end.

I would never want it to end.