I feel blood and strife and fear In this soil I feel worry In this heart

I see fear in the eyes And in the way the plants grow They seem As though in wonder As though in fear

What is that they say about the trees men make Tall, sightless, reaching as did their ancestors, their forebears, those who had a time to live and a time to fall, in a way that these new trees don't have, anymore.

I wonder if i would feel the blood if I didn't know to search for it.