One day I walked up to a tree
And asked it what’s the time.
It did not answer me,
And this I did not mind.
The people said to me
There was a simple explanation:
That trees have not the mouths to speak,
Or ears to hear my question.
But somewhere deep inside me,
I felt the tree did answer me.
His silence that beamed out of him,
Showed me the timelessness he sees.
And that time exists in humans,
In the minds of you and me.
And Nature moves in the stillness,
In which time does not entreat.
The trees may grow or wood may rot,
The flowers bloom and fade,
But in finding the realness of time,
No progress I have made.
Where is this supposed past?
Where can I find my future?
The tree tells me without a word,
The nature of illusion.
“Do not be under confusion,”
He says, in his beaming light,
“Although you have your memories,
Your past you cannot find.
"And the future is nothing more,
Than just a made up myth.
Based on all the memories,
Of desire, fear and wish.
"Forget the human way
Of always living in the mind,
Which is not separate from the weight
Of psychological time.
"Nature is intelligent,
Already she does fine,”
The tree has yet to say a word
But points out the divine.
I thank the tree and go home to tell
The others what the tree has said.
They suggest I visit the hospital,
In case I’ve bumped my head.
- Adam Oakley
Photo above by Brooke Hoyer on Flickr