your hell is nothing to fear
because I'm not destined for there,
I've my own place nestled in green
that holds my soul while I dream.
a chapel with my loves inside,
small and cozy and stone and quiet,
a tree engraved in the altar wall
unweathered through time and tell.
unassuming quiet stature,
undemeaning to its nature,
unrepentant in all beliefs,
undemanding what's underneath.
to be the best person I can be
is good enough for the holy tree,
no judgment that you call your chains
will stop it from calling my name.