Ode to a word

I wrote this poem after a discussion in which someone told me that a "Tree is just a tree."

context: We were arguing (or debating) on religion. They said that God put everything on this planet for human enjoyment or usage... But I argue that a tree is a part of God, and, therefore, the American Indians (for example) who worship trees and other "pagan gods" don't necessarily have it all wrong. They are attempting to define this being/force we call "God" just like every religion is trying to define some force or the state of being connected with this force.

Anyway. The fact is that even the word "God" is derogatory to what "God" actually would be. God is a masculine noun, and, just by making it a word, we have the illusion that we somewhat comprehend it. So, back to the word tree. A tree is a miracle. A little, tiny, wood-like seed is buried under the dirt and when it soaks up water it beings to form into this amazing organism and expands and expands until it has the potential to become a Redwood. That tree then goes through photosynthesis where, as far as we know, it soaks in all the colors in the light spectrum except for green, which it then reflects. A tree also absorbs carbon dioxide, and it turn replenishes our earth with oxygen...

Moral of the story: Language makes us blind to what things really are. It gives us the illusion of comprehension.

One thing I’ve learned in linguistics

Is a tree’s not just a “tree.”

A universe created by ballistics

Is highly unlikely.

Words all over-simplify:

Letters simply can’t define;

Marvels you can’t magnify.

An arbitrary enzyme.

Caterpillar to butterfly,

Seed to red wood oak

Miracles all standing by

I wish my mind could soak

Them in. I wish words would not blind,

And to simple answers bind.

-Alisyn