Weeping willows

weep no more for me.

I’m nothing

but a walking stick

who moves with whispers

of the wind.

I look like a twig

or part of a plant

in perfect camouflage.

I live on leaves

and dine at night,

and, reproduce by myself,

regenerating lost limbs,

and can squirt a lethal liquid

that blinds my predators.

I’ll put an end

to the world’s divisiveness,

by weaving a chain of love

around the earth,

linking beneficence,

and undivided tenderness

for all beings.