Story Waiting to Unfold

A blank piece of paper, I once was a tree.

Rooted in the earth home to me. 

My branches thick, reached the sky.

Nestled different birds of all types.

Standing tall for centuries I have.

Wittnessed it all the good and the bad. 

One with nature as one should be.

But now here I lay, please write upon me. 

For transformation a process for all.

Yes I've been cut, but I refuse to fall. 

I will embrace my new way of being, 

for beauty I am and beauty I'm seeing. 

The truth of me...not paper nor tree, 

Look beyond and you will see. 

The substance an illusion, to create the seclusion.

You are the reason your lost in delusion.

A trick of the mind to trap you in time. 

Open your eyes and shift the line. 

Immortal beings in truth and light.

How you are housed is just your ride. 

For cut from the tree I could have died.

To live only as paper for this life. 

But I see the gift that is I.

An expression of love not to hide. 

For now I am paper for you too explore.

The pieces of you behind those walls. 

I am the enticement luring you to write.

Breathing the darkness out to light.

I am the passion your heart desires.

A chance to experience and ignite your fires.

So pen to paper to reach the deep.

I the expression of the secrets you keep. 

We are all connected apart of it all.

An awe-inspiring picture we will draw. 

For each one of us perfect, magnificent and whole.

A beautiful story waiting to unfold.