Wolves howled in my presence and owls used me for shelter from the harsh winds. I am nothing now but a pedestal for your feet when they ache. I could have been something. You can not count my years by rings, for those are only counting my former dreams. If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, it does make a sound. Wails from agonizing chain saw blades only audible to neighboring sequioas who have heard these screams far too long. Enjoy breaths of my oxygen until the sand runs out because your lungs will only fill with sawdust and gallons of toxic sap will be drenched on your children's breakfast and I hope the adolescents drop their forks as their face contorts into unimaginable pain and all you can do is stand there and fulfill my legacy.