The Remnant

Trees bravely mount treacherous mountains

Building upon wood to withstand animate storms

Hollies illuminate themselves, in beautiful subsistence they distend

Yet the rain baffles, leaving dirt-borne yet struggling worms

Bark alights, burning centuries up bright

As for us, the darkness of life’s defeat lurks nigh

Berries scraped from branches, nutrients expelled

Just as body and mind wither, withheld

What remains when one ceases to act, cognition faltering?

What life is worth living with no identity-offering?

Surely, then, some remnant must persist

Beholding the fraught soul, one hopes it’s not this