Good or Perfect

A Poem by Ronel Lee Alijado

The sick man is like a branch

May or will fall onto ground

And will be dusts forever.

The good farmer tells the branch.

Its leaves falling one by one.

It asks its roots to hold on,

Recalls sins against the bees.

Its small twigs look up the sky.

The branch weeps of its tears - pains,

Bows down, and changes its skin,

Vows not to be in great sin

To live in the Earth's garden.

Faith not in the good farmer

But gives to perfect Farmer

Who grows and cuts all branches

POWER lives in the garden

Will He get an axe to cut?

Or will He water the tree?

The branch shakes, shakes, shakes, shakes, shakes.

Will I get a second chance?

The branch cannot rest nor sleep.

The big axe has been with it.

He has had dreams good and bad.

Shall it trust Good or PERFECT?