Branches

My trees began to dry.

The leaves that winged here are gone:

my young, clean foliage is rotted.

Even my roots withered.

 My soul disease, now 

spreads through my body.

Boiling in my lungs,

I feel life abandon me.

 The eyes no longer see, only seek.

My mind can no longer sustain my yearnings.

The light is gone from me.

Only moss remains.