Naked Is The Tree

Naked Is The Tree
by Keaton Foster



Naked
Is the tree
In a field
By some stream
Nothing green
Does reside
All life
Is in doubt
The ground
Darker than
Any sky above
There is no day
Nor is there night
There is only
Something else
More of a duality
Then a reality
There are creatures
Splinters of the mind
Fantastically furious beast
Based upon real monsters
That live and breathe
At the base
Of said tree
There is a jar
Its lid, rusted shut
Its contents, a mess
Whom placed it there
Matters not
Why it’s there
Matters less
There is a note
Maybe of hope
Maybe of truth
Who knows
Dare it be said
Whom could ever care
Not me
Really not I
I am incapable
Incompatible
With any such idea
Of hope or truth
I just know it’s there
Deep in my mind
Holding something close
As all else falls away
Weirder still
As I step closer
As I go beyond
Closer than before
The once naked tree
Becomes clothed in green
The sky above shifts blue
The ground beneath
Lives and breathes
But that jar
The one still quite far
Is exactly the same
Nothing does change
Its lid, rusted shut
Its contents, a mess
The more I move forward
The further it all seems
So, I stop
Taking it all in
Seeing what I can
What I mostly wish
After a time
I step back
And face
The reality of my days
And there it comes to be
Naked
Is the tree
In a field
Not quite real
In my mind
Behind these eyes
A prison of ideas
An internment camp of truth
Guarded by every lie
I’ve ever been told
And every truth
I have ever been shown…




Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2008-2019