The Tree of Knowing

My roots don't reach for ancestry, but the earth,

Drawing up truth from the silent, dark dirt.

Each fibrous tendril, a question in the gloom,

Seeking the nourishment that makes the spirit bloom.

They are the anchor of learning, the deep, unseen core

Of all the silent wisdom I've gathered before.

The trunk, a steady column of my days,

Built on the foundation of the mind's pathways.

And from this strength, the branches start to spread,

Reaching out to where the light is shed.

They are the branching paths of choices I have made,

The varied directions where my curiosity has strayed.

Each twig a new idea, each leaf a thought unfurled,

A delicate exploration of the wide, complex world.

Through sun and storm, the structure holds its form,

A testament to endurance in the wildest norm.

I am a single entity, built by the light,

Whose roots hold fast to knowledge, from darkest night to bright.

Connected not by kin, but by the will to grow,

A self-made universe, standing tall and aglow.