the roots silently take possession of the space around searching for sap from the soil
the branches are not asking for anything they just want to get up and sing and dance in the wind
the trunk changes every day and survives the seasons passing by as fa veteran of a thousand wars
our life is so small that if you close your eyes too quickly you will barely recognize it
our life
blood that slides slowly into of the cortex,
existence that flows through a small wound,
for all we know
we are so small and fragile
and yet
our flowers and our seeds
will fly away
and walk towards infinity
under this suburban sky
and come what may
Marco Bo
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