The Destination

Pepper trees litter the land like so many spots on the map.  The map that hold the key to a destination so far away you can never reach it on foot, or in any way known to man.  Some spoke of death being the only way to the destination but know one knows for sure.  Death tells nothing after it has come and gone.  Only the living can speak.  But speak in rhyme they do, so as to hide their true identities.  They are liars they are fakes they are beggars and thieves.  Who are we to call upon a God so mighty when we have forsaken Him.  Not He who has forsaken us.  We're the problem we're the stain on the map.  The map is so old and crinkled.  It's ready to be burned and no one will see it ever again in this world or the next.  No one will ever know the destination.  It's out fault.  Our own faults.

And so the trees sway.  Sway in a breeze so gentle and calm that no mere mortal can appreciate it.  It's sent from a source so sweet and humble...so sweet and humble.  The trees sway to a beat that can only be heard by them...yes only they can here the beat beat beating of the breeze that they so gracefully dance to.  Will we ever see the day come when love conquers and hate is abolished.  Back in the day slavery was abolished but the hate kept on and kept on spreading and breeding.  Now it seems that we live in nothing but the hate...war breeds, murder breeds, lies breed...the hate just breeds.  Oh Lord let death take me so I might leave this world once and for all.  I tire at the very though of living in this place for another day...yet peace over takes me as I lie here on this bed of grass.  Staring up at those trees.  Those trees swaying in the breeze.  Those pepper trees that litter the land like so many spots on the map.