“If wrong may e'er
be right, for a throne's sake were wrong most right:—
Be God in all else feared.”
The Machiavellian Tree
Bounded in arms,
of branches, wrapped
One can rout out thoughts away from all their crap!
Lying in its crook,
overlooking my hands
Elbow room and crosses seem to bend to band . . .
Clouded blues, squared . . .
Becomes, being twigged . . .
Seems to me the natural way has purposely been rigged!
Its how bark withstands!
Out on the limbs, I’ve spanned
Reaching for His Light, even the tree is like a wight!!
Plant deeper roots . . .
The more rugged ones will hold!
Regarding your canopy, if widened, it does unfold!
Climbing up is brutal. . .
Man, getting there, is fine!
Adroit in misdirection? . . . Your stilled, stretching for a sign . . .
“No Trespassing, Beyond this Finger!”
Kimmy Van Kooten