Song of the Forest

Song of the Forest

A tree clings to the hillside,

Completely surrounded…

Thoroughly alone.

Overwhelmed by the forest,

Swallowed and cast aside...

A product of the harsh world

And the relentless winds

Twisted and bent

Bruised and battered,

Yet it stands tall…

And lowly wretched vines

Mindlessly cling and grapple

To yank it to their level

And bury it in the dirt.

It fights to reach the stars,

To drink up the sun’s power…

Can’t be stopped; can’t bow down

To wind, abandonment,

Or jealous vines…

So, it stands tall.