Rip me up from my roots,
and break me in two,
Trace the lines from within.

You'll see the times I've been diminished to ash,
Yet chose to amplify again.

You can count the ripples from every end,
Or from the beginning depending your ken.

The ages I spent inbetween them both,
That along with the eons of each one after,

I shed my leaves in a beautiful disaster.

Only in growing back did I learn,
Of my own hues to become a master.

And when the winds of change yet come again,
I'll paint the ground in conscious plaster

© Nick Wallace