Men stood around the now fading tree, and
mocked, "Crucify!"
One by one
brittle, burned-out leaves
fell barren.
Women on a nearby hill watched, and
wept.
Two kinds, two wants, those who
crave death, and
those who grieve,
death.
Yet two is a cosmic myth.
Death, life, male, female –
all tombs
all wombs.
Nothing and Everything
Potential for bloom.