Entangled Roots #25



In the evening of life,
To the fore of one’s sable face,
In an arid terrain land,
as the sun completes the sky’s haze,
He draws strength from a radix carved in place.
There stood a sentinel ancient, in its birthplace.
A brassy, slender stripling peered, standing above
The entangled roots,
deeply planted in the earth’s embrace.

The Dragon Blood Tree,
with its crimson tears,
Holding up an upturned umbrella sucked inside out by the wind,
whispering tales of forgotten years.
Its gnarled stalks span into a dense cluster
of green leaves reaching out to the skies.
Each leaf and each berry
is a witness to the years that rise.
In storms, it swings, yet never cracks or bends,
Much like the spirit of a stripling transcends.

Oh, the tales they could tell of the winds that once blew,
Of warriors and lovers, and storms that they knew.
For in the heart of...