From the Underground Up

Who or what makes all this stuff?
Who or what transforms the world
So that you can live like this,

Like a leaf on a twig tip
Of a massive meadow oak,
Getting your deliveries

Of sweet sap and chlorophyll,
So you can open in the sun,
Rustle a little, weather

The occasional downpour?
Once the chlorophyll withdraws,
As soon as sap stops flowing,

You turn brittle and shrivel.
Who or what took all your stuff?
Who or what destroyed your world?