The Land of the Walking Trees

There is an old shaman who speaks to leaves.

He talks about the moon’s long fingers,

the lack of darkness between stars,

people of dust and light dancing in the sun.

If you ask him where he goes when he dreams

he’ll tell you he’s been in the land

of the walking trees, that place in the mind

where time bathes in its own light.

Do not look in his eyes when he speaks

unless you’re prepared to lose your soul

for awhile. Those eyes are like time itself.

They swallow everything they see.

Do not ask him about your future unless you’re

willing to reveal your past. He will tell

you that in the land of the walking trees

the future is less than half the matter.

- Frederick Zydek