An Imagination under the Oak

Under this imaginary Oak I sit
The heavens blue and white with an occasional disruption of the Sun
These clouds, they are like us, like this world, like these people
They move on, sometimes blocking the light and at times no where to be seen
Well, I say blocking the light is good at times? Isn't it?
When we need Darkness to have a good and heartfelt crying
Or may be a rain would help as well
On the other side, sometimes it feels gloomy to not have light
I think its all about perspective.
Its all bout the condition of heart at that very moment
If you were at a grave, grieving in memories, may be the latter would bring some comfort
Well, either ways, the clouds, they just move on and on
Do they ever look down and check on us? No!
The Sun will still shine bright no matter what
The Clouds will pack their bags and get on with their lives
You, its you who looks at these constant movements
You are like this Earth aint you my friend?
Try providing a place for these trees to grow
Trying to hold every living thing around you,
Trying to keep chaos from happening
Trying to set order and be helpful
Yet, they dig you out.
Dig your heart out and put these dead bodies inside. Dead thoughts. Dead souls
But you take all of it in. Why wouldn't you?
You wear hunger to keep beautiful memories and bonds alive
At the same time put on haunt on your face covered in beautiful masks.
I sit under this imaginary Oak, re-thinking,
How things could have been done differently.
The silence among graves is all you see
But dont they tell beautiful stories?