Days turn to hours, hours to years
A life belittled by lack of fears,
Living simply, for self and other
To nurture as a natural mother,
Flowing forth a gift so pure
Asking for nothing, only to endure,
Enjoying enjoyment in the present time
Being, yet not being, can be no crime,
Oh a wondrous thought it would be
If, If only, to see life from the eyes of a tree.