Abducted the incessant tree in its virtual growth

 Abducted the incessant tree in its virtual growth. Two trees. Two roots. Single side. In the shadows of the earth. Rooted. Sown. In the deep roots. And I see you branch. Swaying of the air. In the immobility of time. Already in the total trust of love and illusion. Clinging to our voice. Producers of abundant sap with which words are diluted. Within them we do not go as dead in our incomprehension. Tomb of the hell of words. From now on in the incessant attempt of its rebirth.

Sense, then ex-isto as a hypo/thesis.