No tree is an Island

The leaves are smashed in this place. From our fevered walking and earnest pace. A moon rises to show sight yet seen. A lover in a sea of none of than, those that won't let it stand If time has pulled me from the soil, To grow up this way away to toil. Will I be felled to fall closer to you? And if I have a seed may he grow to be, Up from soil, far from me and closer to thee.