Trees wander past the truth of Gaia

awaiting still their death by fire.

That fire that is death and birth,

that is the trees one true worth.

For us, it warms us – heart and soul

without it’s warmth we’d be less whole.

Fierce enemy but loving friend;

where trees begin where trees will end.

But, as those trees into the fire go

seeds will crack, new growth will flow.

‘Tis only when unknowing man

interferes with Gaia’s plan

that fire is the foe of all;

the final death – the final call.

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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