One hand on the tree god
asking forgiveness for the rain
that brings no green,
but only the pain
of hail bashing away
at the trunk of
his shell, regenerated
only through communion
with followers still
questioning their own faith.
But how does one,
even an unbeliever
pass the chance to speak
with one such being;
time immemorial having no
effect on his somber sorrow?
And how can one do anything
but believe in the thing
that greets you in the morning
and asks for remedy
at the sunlight's ending?
-mine
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