Biography of Dillon McKenna
I wish I knew what I wanted to do, but I don't.
I wish I would find a way to you, but I won't.
I wish I could find what to say, but I can't.
So here I'll stay, while there you stand.
These leaves know not what move them,
Nor this trunk, this bough, this stem.
These fruits are not for me,
But for you, for I am a tree,
And cannot use them.
For you and your own
And I need not be adored,
My gifts merit no reward,
But when the wind resounds with my moan,
Remember the sounds of your own.