Stoic Beast

I’m not the beast of a nothing place
I’m rich in earth
And stoic like pine of a thousand years.
I don’t look you in the eye,
I devour your hormone
And wax upon each death of your breath.
In death, I spy;
In wind, I vanish;
In grace I am all fingertips
Touching sensitive spots
That have found their way
Into my eyes of a blank canvas.
And this is not the answer in you,
It is only the place I once knew.

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