Thousands have lived without love, not one without water.
W. H. AUDEN
Do you know the words that make the hidden door open?Can you speak my secret name and fix me?I have no heart, I have no brain Lord I have no courage Can you get me home again?
Could never be heaven without you Could never be heaven without you Never be heaven without you
from "Could Never Be Heaven"
Listen to me, this thing called love, that you humans will eat, sleep, count sheep, dream, and even will come to die for . . it's not unattainable and neither fantasy; I know because it's how I came to be.
I'm blessed, but I'm also burdened. I have a home; so - yes - blessed, yet burdened - I am in a paradise yet cleverly was built: immobile — no other choice but at least I am dressed by autumn, winter, spring, and summer that is when each of them visits me. I'm Jacob, a Jacaranda tree, but I am first and foremost a protector. I contribute to Mother Earth's atmosphere, get rid of a percentage of carbon dioxide; more so, I lend a hand, or branch, so to speak: a day's supply of oxygen to the family of four living inside our two-story home that is founded upon my bed. Our soil although rugged and insignificant perhaps to some, isn't bothersome to me at all, it's my cologne or so I believe.
This quirky family lives on the other side of my window — are they ghosts or perhaps angels?
Life goes on, seasons change, my moods either bring me down or up, sadden or energize me. Billows and traces of my breath leave a kiss like mist upon their chilled window, but do they even notice?