From the stoic green pines of the day
To the jade moon reflections at night
Upon the ripples in still water pools
The timing has never seemed right
Rooted and ready in violence and calm
Through chaos and children at play
To sharpen a spear or to offer an ear
No man is an island they say
Hold the spoil beneath your skin
And own the soil you've rooted in
A second a season, the spin of a coin
A glacier a thought passing by
A butterflies wings and the current they bring
A lifetime, the blink of an eye
In storms and sunshine spells
A language of loops and carousel
The writing in stars or a partner in arms
The backlash that answers the bell
Hold the spoil beneath your skin
And own the soil you've rooted in