Ian Llewellyn ap-Griffith
Cincinnati, Oh, U.S.A.
This is the first finished draft. I always revise as I write but think this may need some input. Let me know what you think.
In the credit where credit is due collumn, this was inspired by a tale and artwork by Kelley Hensing. You can find some of her work at Wickiearts.com
The seed fell on fertile ground
Rich with the loam of past regrets.
Watered by the tears of stillborn dreams,
The shoot was sickly and green.
The sapling had no love for the sun
But struggled toward it
Over the years, it grew tall.
Its girth became vast.
Through the canopy of the forest
Sprouting from a single seed,
It overshadowed the forest
Plunging its fellow trees
Wanting only to survive,
The forest gathered its forces
Plotted its actions
The roots of the forest split the earth.
They whispered to one another,
And finding the cause of their shadow,
Striking at the heart of this monstrosity
The forest fed on the treeís marrow.
Now, tainted in its revenge,
Once, I heard the forestís whispers
And quickly lost my way.
Now I search for release
The old, great tree still stands.
Shards of bark fall from my fingers.
It feels just like me:
The noblest battles are always fought in vain
-Cyrano de Bergerac