Your tree lined streets are beautiful
but to the universe what do they mean?
To you they speak of accomplishments,
success and securities,
with your walls of stick and of stone
where do you draw the line
of neighbors, of strangers, of security alarm saviors?
To the universe, the only witness that has seen
the roots of these trees grow
deeper than you and further back than
the ancestors of me, to that witness,
what do you think these walls mean?
Your imagined enemies, these lines drawn
of the fears of your own mental disclarity
that mirror the depths of your shelters,
what have they harmed in you?
In search of self-righteous significance,
where do you go to feel free?
Beyond your walls? Beyond your trees?
The universe knows no difference of
you, them and me
amongst these beautiful tree lined streets.