Like every tree stands on its own.

A tree stands firm with its roots penetrated into the depths of the soil. It stands tall and magnificient, outstretching its arms to the corners of the sky, basking in the glory of the sun. With every glimmer of the light the dewdrops clash upon the ground. A tree stands alone in silence.

A tree stands as if in confidence, as if life had done it well. And many assume trees are as strong as the spirit that flares in them. Many assume that trees can take the merciless challenges of nature and that of men.

As I said, many assume.

Deep down, if one could hear the voice of the tree, you would hear its heavy heart burdened with a tainted self-esteem, every scar upon its bark leaving a hurting gnash upon its soul. Perhaps you may hear the sound of its heart shattering, and in desperation, it is trying to hold it all together. Deep down, you may even hear it sobbing.

Perhaps it is not the demands of natural disasters that torment its pride, but that of men who continuously slash its trunk, and the fear of not being able to hang on.

A tree suffers in silence, its sanity hanging on a string. Alone and lonely. Yet it can never express its innermost feelings. It takes someone with a heart that cares enough yet not judge to truly understand that of a tree.

A tree stands firm upon the soil, has leaves that shed across the dusty land, and branches that touch the clouds and grasp at the stars, a signature of strength...but never never assume,

That what you see is what it really is.