L'orologio

*tick*

The cuckoo clock ticked to itself,

"I must never forget me,

Moulded this way I am,

I will always be a tree.

In the forest whence I came,

I have beautiful memories,

Of starlit skies, of sunny days,

Even the humming of the bees.

But I am here, this is now,

Although resigned to my reality,

In the night I become,

The tree that was always me."

*tick*

I am the tree.

Uprooted from home.

Cut down.

Sanded.

Burned.

Incised.

Until THEY were satisfied.

I was shaped to be

something I am not.

But when you look at me,

See through my carvings and imperfections.

You see me for who I really am

And love me.

How could anything else matter?

*tick*

"I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me... but it's hard to stay mad, when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst... And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life..."

--Lester Burnham, American Beauty