There is a tree with strong roots,
but no branches.
Bound to the ground,
aching to stay anchored
but with no particular purpose.

To some just merely a stump,
a beautiful piece of nature that used to be,
but currently,
just a hypothetical has-been.
A tree that couldn’t withstand it’s home.
But this tree is not perished,
a branch’s ashy remains are not unrecoverable,
they are not just dismembered members 
of a tree that used to be.

Not antiquated, 
but depreciated. 
it’s branches may be amputated,
and it’s value calumniated.
Mother nature’s crusades
may have infested a war within the shade.
So this tree is no longer illuminated.
no, now it is dark, and mutilated,
but that is not all.
Not an irrelevant stump, 
but rather a significant sunder,
because that which truly astounds,
lies under the ground.

This stump has a story,
and this tree has a past.
The bark has been war-torn and tattered, 
and the pattern
in it’s wood is screaming with meaning.
No leaves for no branches,
a design without alignment.
A death without surrender.
A love without tender.

This war within nature,
consists of no battles,
exists without recruits.
Destroyed within nature’s rattle,
and the collateral damage
endures only within the roots.
Deep down with in the earth,
where no unclothed eye could ever see.

Elements in the sediment, softened by rain,
These roots have become one with the terrain,
becoming more stagnant day by day.
And here these roots will lay,
as almost to say,
“I’m here, and I’m here to stay”