This wreakage of wood; half oragnised half chaos, elucidates the need for the tears I feel on my cheek.
Though still retaining beauty, its true glory is lost by the hands of another.
I and this tree, this magnificnet being, are equally reduced to stump and rubble.
Though no one stops to bid it farewell or thank it for its beauty, I am no less than stopped in my path by its cry of greif.
Yet, it knows the place of its greif and does not dwell on it...
As it will be transformed into what new thing by what means, I love it always.
Its roots forever strong in the earth of my heart.
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