TREE

As a tree, I have too much to say.

I loathe the silence of trees, the calmness of trees spoken of by people.

Tired of watching the same reflection of myself on the shore, day after day.

Tired of the roots that trap me in the soil.

Do we all need roots?

I try to speak to every life that passes by,

But alas, I've hardly met anyone.

Animals are fine,

Plants won't do, weeds can't understand my words.

Until that day I suddenly found another tree,

And I poured out everything I had ever held back without reservation.

The lake turned out to be my tears.