Cultivation

Our world was once a forest,

And each of our brains a tree,

We stood tall into the skies,

Each with a place that was our own.

Now we all ‘came cultivated,

And were turned into a garden,

We took our place within its hedges,

To feel the open air nevermore.

We still keep sprouting shoots,

But they are pruned away forever,

Never are we to reach out of line

Even ever so slightly to grow.

The hedges form a labyrinth,

None can find its way through,

Our only choice of where we go,

Is to which hedge we belong.

Thus we gave up all we are,

Just to be closer together.

But tell me when you become one,

Do your gnarls still feel it?

As I fit not into your garden,

You treat me as nothing but a weed,

To be rooted out by any means,

And nevermore to reappear.

But you cannot take me down,

For I am everywhere at once.

My branches reach up to heaven

And my roots reach down to hell.