Through everything

through leaves the light fractures and falls
and weaves in white upon the windows and walls

within the concrete forest true trees remain
no more than an echo, no less than a stain

through the hum of machinery another life collapses
and at the hand of man the cycle of earth relapses

with the work day done, another tree gone
and all that's left is one more life to mourn

but still, through the tranquil hours of early morn
on the heads of trees a crown of sunlight is worn

for they will always stand as King
through life, man, death; Everything