Graphite Grifter

I grew up in a tree and believed it to be, safe as the branches enclosed around me.  On strings of breeze God may pull as he please, the life over leaves dances with ease.  But when I watched by bees and birds as they fly, my limbs chagrined as branches down wind. Unaware before, I then yearned for more,  now feeling bound to my link in the ground. Shifting my gaze, grip turned to graze  as my eyes slid down to the trunk I had found. What could it be that afforded safety  as I sat above graves among the leaves and the aves? Was I anchored by tombs no man can exhume,  or was this decay the cause for trees' sway To the mound I fell by gravity compelled,  but when I did peel at what earth had concealed I found vines much stronger than ivy. Now posture is prayer so I look to the air,  thanking the roots for taking such care. But before I feed fibers completing the rhyme, I must find time for the trees ...

Si yo fuera poeta, hablaria con la lengua de otro Yo se mas palabras en ingles, pero los poetas no hablan sobre de lo que saben Ellos cantan sobre de lo que confunde  Yo estoy confunde, eso no es la problema Pero no se cantar No se como me siento, siento todos las cosas  Si pudeira hablar en italiano, yo usaria las manos de otro

which way does the moon trend against the darkness does it spin? and where do the stars end I feel I have them on my skin because when light does bend so do I into kin