So far I'd fallen only to be fed as prey,
So deeply torn apart and tossed to all dismay,
Not compromised for and believed to be,
Thought of as uncommitted and to rot to simply be to put away.
As weak and as decaying houses are put up and fall,
To hear the oldest timber in the woods grow tall,
With emptiness for years around and nobody to hear,
What once was real could not succeed and live at all.
In fear, in silence did it grow in times,
And as the first of leaves began to spring and grow,
The silent tree stood strong, persisting and dug deep,
Relentless to be withered and unknown to disappear,
It stands as strong as ever, unwilling to move on.