Men stood around the now fading tree, and
        mocked, "Crucify!"

One by one
        brittle, burned-out leaves
        fell barren.

Women on a nearby hill watched, and
        wept.

Two kinds, two wants, those who
        crave death, and
        those who grieve,
                death.

Yet two is a cosmic myth.
Death, life, male, female –
        all wombs
        all tombs.

Everything and Nothing
        Potential for bloom.