"What Used to Be." Or, "Four Broken Sticks From a Tall Tree"

[Zarn Ishtare]

Four broken sticks
fell off a great tree.

That tree was my shelter,
that tree was my home.

I carved my hopes into its bark;
I heard the whispers in the leaves.

I was comfortable, with my tree
it was a safe place for me.

But now my tree is gone
with four broken sticks, how can I carry on?

I wish it was still standing, great boughs spreading
green leaves singing an ancient song of peace.

In its place is little to shelter from the water
to run from the tiger or cover from the thunder.

Nothing but the plain, empty of safety,
the wind is never stopping, always bitter, chilling

Go down the golden road for me, lit by the drowsy sun
Find it in the land of "Used To Be".

Climb it one time for me, and sleep in the leafy shelter
that pools the morning dew into ponds of crystal water.

Pat its hefty trunk for me, and tell it where I am.
Perhaps, tomorrow, it'll be here again."