by Marcello Comitini

Is the space between branch and branch,
between leaf and leaf an essential part of the tree?
Does it make sense to break her fronds?
In the movement of existence
that pushes her to fill the void
the sap germinates in new branches.
But they will bloom against
the bare walls of nowhere
without invading the space.
Only my gaze, fruit of solitude
it can fill it. Being empty
I can give it a name. I spread my arms
and I call it
incomprehensible nothing, elusive sky
light in the dawn fire of the sunset
eye of the god incarnate. At my scream
the void becomes the weaving of branches
acquires consistency and scent of leaves.
In the compactness of the texture achieved
I recognize the divine nature of emptiness
the most intimate essence of the tree.
Image by from Pixabay

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