The Tree of Knowing
A Poetic Journey of Growth, Wisdom, and Self-Discovery
My roots don't reach for ancestry, but the earth,
Drawing up truth from the silent, dark dirt.
Each fibrous tendril, a question in the gloom,
Seeking the nourishment that makes the spirit bloom.
They are the anchor of learning, the deep, unseen core
Of all the silent wisdom I've gathered before.
The trunk, a steady column of my days,
Built on the foundation of the mind's pathways.
And from this strength, the branches start to spread,
Reaching out to where the light is shed.
They are the branching paths of choices I have made,
The varied directions where my curiosity has strayed.
Each twig a new idea, each leaf a thought unfurled,
A delicate exploration of the wide, complex world.
Through sun and storm, the structure holds its form,
A testament to endurance in the wildest norm.
I am a single entity, built by the light,
Whose roots hold fast to knowledge, from darkest night to bright.
Connected not by kin, but by the will to grow,
A self-made universe, standing tall and aglow.
About the Creator
Tim Carmichael
Tim is an Appalachian poet and cookbook author. He writes about rural life, family, and the places he grew up around. His poetry and essays have appeared in Bloodroot and Coal Dust, his latest book.
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Comments (1)
The tree metaphor has been done before. It's perhaps even more appealing that you're able to bring something new to the metaphor than creating a new metaphor. The knowledge that our history is in the dirt is a powerful message that rings so true for those of us who toil and play in the dirt. I absolutely love "...The trunk, a steady column of my days..." Nice work.