Tree

I climbed the tree.
High up,
just above the last branch that could support me.
A wind swept,
eddying in the leaves,
but I did not fall.

Grasping tight.
Presently bending;
crackling, popping, snapping-
but I did not fall.

Not from that ranch, that branch fell
I only descended with it.
When we stopped,
I stopped,
with branch safely in arms.

Up to the top again I climb,
We All Climb.
WIth an anxious pace,
tearing away each step below,
eyes winced shut in fiery sun light
spiraling of torment
under diminishing shade.

And strewn around our broken tree lies all,
all of them which have been abandoned,
laid open in splitting heat,
petrified in shades of gray.