Discovery of the Grand Tree

i. Grazioso: The monkey goes.

I have found a tree, a tree
as tall as that mountain, a tree
as hard as earth, a tree
as large as life itself!
It's nothing but a tree
but trees paint the sky
with that green, that peculiar green
that leaps across my sight

now it's here, now it's there and
there and
then it is there, then it is here

there it is, my tree, the tree
that reaches past the sky, well past
the diving birds and - there!
My family goes wandering, and I
should follow them with my news,
the suddenness of this new tree,
of this new life, of this

but then it's nothing but a tree, I
really shouldn't care, it's only just a tree
but then, it's something new, oh yes, it's
something grand, this large rocky tree
something...something unusual
with this tree, unusual, unusual
it's different, metal branches, slivered leaves

doesn't feel a single bit like any tree
I've ever touched, not a single tree
feels anything like this one here does now
no, not a one, but -

I can't help but feel like it is sun-brushed
and is quite alive, I can't help but feel
like it is sun-brushed and is quite alive
doesn't feel a single - doesn't feel
a single bit!

now it's here, now it's there and
there and
then it is there, then it is here

but it is alive! My tree, my tree
is dusk-shining, it reaches past the sky
it reaches past the sky, and so will I!
I have found a tree that threatens life,
it reaches past the sky, it touches
where I should not go, and yet I want to go
and climb past those silver-white puffs
that have conquered the sky, yes
then I'll conquer the sky

there it is, it's that green again,
but is it green? But, is it green?
It is not green, quite far from green.
Not at all green, but it is my tree
and I shall go, climb past the sky,
breathe in and

there, the top of my tree trembles
for it can feel the pulse of the sky
I feel the pulsing, the pulsing

there, will I climb beyond,
though? Still, it is my tree.


ii. Andantino: The monkey returns.

Dew-ridden morning, I am awake
and shaking through this fog,
metal branches clinging to a skin,
skin I don't recall I had.
Dew-ridden morning, wake up!
Dew-ridden morning, leave here,
take your leave, there is no,
no sky left!

This sky here is mine, this tree
branch is sparse and cold, and I'm
burning with life, a light, alight.
Good Apollo, that's mine, the comet
star keeping this world alive,
yes, that star's mine.

The birds chatter below. I fly,
I fall, I run, I jump! This is how
flight works, this is how all of the sky
works! It's a rush, then dip. This
was my playground then, but now
it's time to get home! It's time to release
the sun from within my own eyes, the sun,
the sky, it must all disappear! It must
all disappear. Morning means starting fresh,
morning means it's a hop, skip, then hop,
skip, then hop, hop skip, hop, skip, skip
hop, skip, skip hop. I am running late.
I should be home soon!

There is family now, they're rising
above the patched-up leafy hillside. My sun
is too bright for close-range morning sight
so I will put out my burning lantern eyes, so
I will disguise the comet held inside me.

The fog has rolled in all around, the fog,
it surrounds, I will have to keep my eyes, keep my eyes
shut. For light to live, flames must combust.

Dew-ridden morning, leave here! You've chased the stars
away, dew-ridden morning, leave out your heart.
Your tear tracks leave some staining, and still
you stand here quite alone. I sit alone.
My stars burned out, this fog consumed them.
But still the lantern flickers, once left
once right, then gone. My family is waiting,
I really should go. This fog should go
back to sky, just out of here, back
to the Atlantic Ocean, or wherever else it
came from, back to the sea where it perhaps is better
wanted, or hated, or perhaps disliked.

This is how life works, this is how all of my life
works! It's a rush, then dip. This was my playground
then, but now it's time to get home, it's time
to watch comet-trails, to see all of the sky
I left behind, all the sky left to me, all the sky
left to us.

There is family now, they're walking
along the patched-up leafy hillside. My sun
is too bright for even my own eyes
so I will go with them with my lantern eyes, so
I will disguise the comet held inside me,
growing in size, and bursting out into the air
as it tries to hop, skip, then hop,
skip, then hop, hop skip, hop, skip, skip
hop, skip, skip

above the awning, the sun is catching
all of my bright stars, and there over the sea
the fog is tangled in the breeze, and there
beneath my tree, suspended from my tree, the world's
hung in a sling on my grand tree.