Arboreal Thoughts

By Phil P Harris. (Own work) [CC BY-SA 2.5 (, via Wikimedia Commons

Skittering, sliding, always on edge
I faint tho think of the drop
The fall from this perilous perch
Os, so far from the ground
From the ways and paths of the dwellers above

I think-
I will not fall, I am after all
Arboreal in physique.
I am not inclined
To look below to where I once was

I learned of this so high up above
This new way of life
Precarious at best
A way that is learned

Old tombs where martyrs are buried
with their faint memories
Of times when respect was their due,
their knowledge of how people lived
with the dangers around them held sacred

Live on the edge, skittering, sliding
along the safe path
Thoughts yanked back to the now
As I drop

To no mercy below
where people have
No saints
No hope
No knowledge.


Comments and questions welcome.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s