Illusions - A Poem

I sit by the Bodhi Tree.
I thirst,
and it rains.
I hunger,
and they bring me offerings,
of their own flesh.

I sit by the Bodhi Tree.
They ask me to see to their wounds,
but all I can see is the sun.
They ask me to listen to their pleas,
but all I can hear is the wind.

I sit by the Bodhi Tree.
I did not ask them to come,
or to call on me.

If they did not come,
I would not hunger.
Would they be,
(here)
without me?

If they did not come,
I would not thirst.
Would I be,
(here)
without them?

It's just us two,
me,
and the Bodhi Tree.

It's only me,
in this reality.

Come and sit with me,
by the Bodhi Tree.

This piece is written for the kind creatrix who is the reason I don't just let go, @mamadini.

Thanks to the @isleofwrite members who had told me the piece is ready as it was first written. Sometimes friends are also there for that, to not try and find changes when none are needed, but to tell you that you are ready to go out there to the world, where others will make demands of you.

This piece is the first of two that were written and are both contradictory and complementary in terms of themes. This one, if I had to call it out, employs "The Hermit" card from the Tarot, as its themes.

Check out my latest posts:

Handling Flashback Scenes and Respecting Your Audience
On Rise to Power & Falling - Mythic fiction.
The Essence of Love - A poem.

Art and flair courtesy of @PegasusPhysics

_{^{Top Image source.

Bottom image is The Hermit from the Rider-Waite Tarot, and is public domain.}}