My Poetry: The Lord of the Tree

Time ripples, rings the rim a thousand names;
Wood echoes mortal beauty scoring dew
A dappled drink of shade. Eternity
An evening aches as autumn bleeds, the lord
Of the tree weeps his wringing, whirling heart
A heavy hurl, heaved wild love long and longed
The late wood’s fate would strong the rounding rims.
The binding bark breaks bones, bears groans though blood
Had brimmed the curse, and more still grasped the grounds
Of being, being root of all did crawl
The top, and limbs to limbs was glory gashed
And crowned the deepest stem and wrought the rims.

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