My Computer Can Never Be A Tree

My computer can never be a tree nor breathe magical air. Some say my computer will never decay in the soil as part of the Earth's natural rhythms. I suppose this depends upon how long one measures those rhythms, short measuring such a puny task for the soul. But I'm mindful of this tiny break on the skin of the Mother. And I wonder if the wound is real. I wonder if this machine's potency to reach across space to heal Her skin is greater than this tiny wound. I wonder if this wound is merely the cut of Kali's knife that ultimately brings the Earth a fine bounty.