A tree named Michael

I carved my name into a tree, hoping the world would remember me.

A youthful wish, a fleeting dream, a mark upon the bark, a memorial scene.

I wished to be great, to echo in time, a legend forged, a life sublime.

My bones turned to dust, my possessions did rust.

My legend soon forgotten, my records undone.

The only thing left was my mark, which the tree claimed for itself.

A stalwart pine called by my name.

The knife, a tool of sharp desire, left its mark, a fading pyre.

Now rusted and dull, it lies forlorn, a symbol of hopes forever morned.

Forgotten in a drawer, out of sight, a silent witness to the fading light.

But nature's laws, indifferent and cold, soon claimed my hopes, stories yet untold.

The bark grew over, smooth and new, nature's healing, silent and true.

A lesson learned, a fleeting trace, time moves on, leaving no space.

The tree stands tall, indifferent and grand, while memories fade, like grains of sand.

I tried to grab the sands of time, a futile quest, a foolish crime.

The grains slipped through my grasping hand, dissolving dreams across the land.

I carved my name into a tree, please don’t forget about me. 

What futile desire, an effort thrown in the fire.

So I asked for wisdom, and the word whispered back.

I carved my name into their heart, I forgot about the nameless faces.

I etched my love into their soul, a love so pure, forevermore.

My love never forgot about me.

So live for today, a simpler art, no grand designs, no future's fear, just present joy, crystal clear.

Love your lovelys, give them your time. Live in the present with a clear mind.

Let go of the past, its shadows deep, embrace the now, while others sleep.

In every sunrise, a chance to start, a brand new day, a pure, open heart.