between genius & madness
a conversation with nature pt. ii
I thought my neighbor’s fig tree was speaking to me
When it sprouted leaves in the spring
it gave me hope
filled me with motivation
and carried me to where I was meant to be
In the summer
the figs grew rather quickly —
Brown Turkish —
you can imagine my excitement, seeing there be a sweet nectar that is transformation on the horizon
Slowly,
remorselessly
the leaves changed from olive to a crisp amber
and the figs dropped
one
by
one
taunting me as though time —
my youth —
had been slipping irreversibly through my fingers
By winter,
the fig tree,
naked amidst demise,
reached out its thickest branch
to graze my weary complexion
only to slap me across the face thereafter
and finally, opened his mouth to speak,
Time is merely a concept, in which how long you suffer holds no importance
