Tautological

Repository of worlds,
The forest grows forgetful.
Relentless minor tremors
Open fissures in the ground.
The roots are still connected.
The branches tip together,
But the paths are disrupted.

Only the more cumbersome
Inhabitants seem bothered.
From a distance, the breezes
Move the same ways through the leaves;
Birds and whispers sound the same.
But there's no distance from the thought,
Illogical, thought's leaving.