consider the tree: years and years, if not for centuries, it grows -- planted with purpose or happenstance. it grows upward, purposefully -- reaching for life. it weathers rain and wind, even war. it survives, down to its core, it fights from its roots to its leaves, hundreds of feet, to survive.
and then, imagine, what it must be like, to have a stranger pass, and with an idle thought decide, with the swing of an axe to end that life. For no real reason or rhyme. Maybe for money. Maybe to fill the time. in just a few strokes, the results of a years and years of growth crashes downward, dead.
but look -- have you ever seen a stump of a tree after some time -- a leaf -- a growth of new life peeping from the ruin there? it grows again, risen from the roots.
oh! consider the tree: even when killed it survives.
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