The Muted Bravado of a SMG

The tree in my dreams

In my dreams, there is a tree, an immeasurably tall tree of infinite branches that span the horizon and reach towards the heavens.

You climb the tree, trying to get ever higher, higher.

Some branches lead you up, others take you down.

Every branch you follow diverges to more branches.

And every branch you do not follow falls to the ground.

Branches leading from these branches fall too.

As you ascend, you realise the tree turns barren behind you, except for the path you have chosen.

And above you, voids are visible in the cover of the tree in regions you will now never reach.

Still you climb, though the boughs get thinner and thinner.

The cover of the tree, once so lush and verdant, now seems sparse in every direction except ahead of you.

So you climb, the only way you now realise you know.

And perhaps, if you reach the end, looking back you will see but one solitary, heroic limb of the tree, reaching from the ground to your seat in the heavens.

posted by Đirestraits @ 11:16 am