The conqueror was a boy once, too.
In fact
He was a small child
Even a baby
Although you might not imagine it
Behind his mother’s house
In her sprawling backyard
There was a tree
And in that tree he dreamed a fortress
Its jutting branches set his mind on fire
Synapses burst, blazing electric trails
Through uncharted forests
Of his imagination
The sensation excited him
And he craved the taste it seared
Against the roof of his mouth
Watching the giant
From his worn patch of lawn
He wanted to know the thing
Before he built his dream in its arms
When Fall came
He felt the winds change
Attuned to nature
His eyes focused intensity
Wanting to see each leaf fall from its place
The only place it had ever known
As swathes of color swirled to the ground
Dancing downward
He breathed deep to keep from fainting
Wincing as the crisp air stung inside his lungs
Floating foliage
The autumnal opera he had longed to see
Sank his stomach
Churned an unsureness inside him
He was terrified for the tree
Naked and shivering
What could he do for it?
It was too cold, now, to make his fortress
To keep it warm
He made a promise
That on the first sunny day
He would build his castle
Where the leaves used to be
Keeping it forever clothed
The days got colder
Darker
The leaves began to disappear
Snow fell
Covering what was left
He left his spot
Hiding away inside his mother’s home
Confused at how to watch something as it died
Creeping to his window some nights
He peeked upon his tree
Having wondered throughout the day
If the ground had opened up
To swallow its dying child
But the tree stood tall
And the boy who would be conqueror
Began to sense its pride
He, too, grew resilient
Holding on with silent support
Winter waned, and soon Spring came
The tree still raised its branches to the sky
And the boy sat, astonished, on his grass-stained pants
Smiling for the tree
The leaves were returning, he thought
When he spied their tiny beginnings
On branches big and small
Something settled inside him
His castle wasn’t meant for this tree
It was building its own, again
Staring for hours
He swore he saw it breathing
And he felt the tree was once a boy, too
Note from Kyle: The illustration is of a young Stanley Kubrick. For those unfamiliar, he directed The Shining, 2001: A Space Odyssey, Dr. Strangelove, and A Clockwork Orange among others. He is a big inspiration for both Kent and me.
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