Tree

I can feel it, the rythm of the world. These leaves, this grass, some distant city... I can feel it beneath my feet, in my hands, brushing my skin. Nothing here is certain, stable, lasting. This tree, not even it can withstand everything. It is rooted and will fight the winds and storms, things that choose to eat away at it. Until something comes along and the tree has no defense. Until man, he comes along with his saw, his machines, and kills that magnificent wonder. Gone, it is, and some may weep for the loss in thier own special ways, for what was once amazing, something special, something that gave purpose to life, is unfortunately taken away. Still, there does remain the proof that it was once there, even though you may not see it and only feel the aching in your heart. You cannot erase its existence, not even in death. All things die, as do they leave thier mark.
Some, they possibly wished the death of the tree, maybe stood in the way of any whom protected it. It was precious and wonderful while it lasted. Something so timeless that did change everyone's life whom was involved in even the smallest ways. It grew, grew to something wonderful... but that wonder could not last. And its sad to think that perhaps part of that tree gave in while another part fought so hard. Still, though the pain of the saw against its trunk and the splitting of all things it housed, the amazement of its term was so past worth it, so magnificent that even in the death of it, never would the planting of the seed and growing it did be regretted. Others would look down on the tree, say "what a silly spot for something of that nature...a tree in the middle of this grey dank city." some would wonder how big the tree would get before its death, while others smiled at the tree and admired its boldness and bravery to strive as it did.
Thinking of it now, I wonder if ever a tree so wonderful could even exist here again. Perhaps one ending is enough, more then enough damage done. I myself had so carefully tended to the tree, giving it water and time, patience...and more love then I could imagine I would ever be capable of giving. But at some point, somebody decided they didn't like it, and they would be the ultimate demise.


Why did he stop tending to the tree?? I ask it too much. But, without his help, well, it was simply a silly idea to think I could keep something like that growing on my own. It made no sense, and without that care...that undying love to the tree, it was made weak. A magnificent tree no longer, just another one in the way of the smog filled city. That tree, my tree, is dead. And, though still I feel it all, the seeds below my feet and the rains that promise possibilities,
never will the roots of my greatest tree be undone completely from my heart.