The tree don’t care who tied the thread The stone don’t ask what books I’ve read The rain just comes. The leaf just goes. And nothing needs my name to grow I’ve shouted loud in empty rooms I’ve carved my mark on younger blooms But roots don’t read and wind don’t bend— They just remind me: I’m not the end So bury the title Burn the claim Leave what withers Keep the flame What holds me fast is soft and plain— A place to be. Not bear my name I’ve walked on paths with boots too proud And missed the hush beneath the loud But now I walk with open hands— And every branch still understands The crows don’t ask me why I stay The dusk don’t care what debts I pay The ash, the root, the turning flame— They love me more without my name So bury the title Burn the claim Let what’s simple Stay the same I don’t need more than moss and rain— The forest knows me. That’s enough name I am not the builder I am not the brand I am not the louder voice Just another hand Another breath Another stone Another soul that’s heading home And when I go, don’t write it deep Just let the roots and fungi keep The memory small, the story bare— A leaf that fell, and fed the air So bury the title Burn the claim Let what’s simple Stay the same I don’t need more than moss and rain— The forest knows me. That’s enough name So bury the title Burn the claim Let what lingers Have no name The forest needs no song of fame— Just quiet feet and softened flame “What holds me fast is soft and plain… A place to be… not bear my name.”
