The Lone One

In the desert stands a tree,

All around it grains of sand
Shift with the wind
And come to rest
In teeming waves
‘Til its roots are buried,
Unable to breathe for the weight
Of the gusting, gathering crowd.

The tree stands tall,
Looks to the heavens
And sees above the host,
Clear is the sky it longs for
As it reaches, desperate
For the raining water of life
To calm the massive tide
Of accumulating disappointment.
 
Incapable of movement,
It lowers twisted branches
And waits for relief,
Gives up the struggle
For growth while it yields
To the need for the horde
To be masked in its shadow,
Looking toward its roots in despair.