'' Symmetrical Treeformity''
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pFWu3uKieq8
His name was Eric, a real gem of a guy,
A testament that deformed people can rock denims just fine.
He never got straight to the point, and his life resembles his spine.
On another level, we all convince ourselves of reasons to realign.
Eventually, he found peace, but not in the trees you climb.
That one tree that's buried deep inside,
That one tree that frees you from the leeches that bleed your mind.
Each step was a war against pain,
Each breath another plea to release the tension.
The villagers called him a living curse; no surgery could rid his scourge.
Get immersed at best, he was a feature credit.
The simple purrs of a Persian cat were his only friend,
His spine bent to the bitter end,
Walking around town shaped like the letter "M."
There was a myth of a desert tree that glowed,
That brought balance to the soul.
Eric set on a journey to
“Make him whole” like the Rhodochrosite Rose.
Moving slow, hope carved in sand; his prayers remain etched in time.
The whispers of a foreign land, with a promising cure, propelled his climb.
He found the tree at dawn’s first light, no words could describe
What he felt inside encountering such a fantastic being.
A masterpiece carved beyond Gaia’s most wildest dreams,
Its branches blocked the sun; they looked like massive beams.
The sky above, the earth below, bent to all its ancient grace,
A deep rooted relic of the universe, stuck in between time and space.
He placed his hands upon its twisted roots,
Each tendril bore its fruits.
“I seek to stand,” as tall as you,
Eric demanded repeatedly, something he would often do.
The tree responded silently, in a sudden flare,
Eric felt his spine grow straight,as his burdens became light as air.
He stood up staring at the stars, for a moment the world was cradled in his palms.
The crooked paths that bound his life now vanished in the glow.
And yet, the power surged too far he knew he would have to go.
The roots began to twist his feet; as his arms grew stiff as stone,
The voice of the ancient tree entwined with his own.
“Eric, you sought my strength, and now you are the guardian of my bough.”
The man became the myth reborn,
His life a sacred chain once deformed.
For those who live a crooked path
In straightened lanes and suffer endless pain,
The tree remains.
As this story spreads like roots from deserts to the streets,
Eric's voice will never cease.
For every soul that gets straightened out
Searches for their own release.