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The question that I cannot ask,
the one that seals my tremb'ling lips,
I buried in the dampened earth,
just like one buries apple pips.

Then to this shady, secret place,
I often went, to water it,
with muted songs and whispered words,
with veiled tears and silence lit.

It grew into a shapely tree,
its bark gleamed strangely in the night,
bright symbols flitted through its boughs,
it sang with soft tones at twilight.

And silently, it asked the wind,
it asked the laughing winter snow,
it asked the dawn's first deathless light,
and asked the whispers of the night.

For questions, answers, shadows pale,
are but the lights that lure us on,
into the seas where they dissolve,
amid the depthless waters still.

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The following comments are for "The Magic Tree"
by marigold

The Magic Tree
I enjoyed this, but think it could be even better. The first two stanzas made promises the rest didn't live up to, although the thoughts followed through.

( Posted by: KateLouise [Member] On: March 24, 2005 )

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