What would you do if I told you
that
Without roots, a tree is just a pillar of wood, a gateway to an empty temple
It turns to sludge, becomes a home for bugs
It becomes a coat rack upon which we hang our faded glories.
that
Without roots, the Earth is just a ball of stone
Sipping punch in the corner while the band plays the music of the spheres,
Orbitting the emptiness that pushes in, closer every day.
What would you do if I told you
that
without the sinews of tuberous roots that wrap us in a tight embrace
that
without the tangled veins of sap and water
that
without a thousand, no, a hundred thousand years, of tree and roots we
are the inhale without the exhale, and we,
are adrift in the stars and we,
 have nothing to tether us to life in the light of a dying sun and we
are left to the ruthlessness of the unseeing moon when in our rootlessness we
are alone.
If I told you that, what would you do?