On looking at the Trees

I am but the image of the tree And no more than a flower in the grass; The universe pours through my veins, The sun spills forth its gold, And I gaze without a thought, At the space, the wind, and the clouds That swirl about me in a swirl of joy.

The trees whisper my secrets, Their shadows a balm in the heat. I listen as stillness speaks to me, Wrapped in the arms of verdant dreams.

In their embrace, I learn to be free, Sprouting wings of quiet currents, Framing me in the wide embrace of nature.

A hush envelopes my heart. I am complete, at last, incomplete, An echo of eternity, timeless as a breeze.

• Albert Samain