Deeper

 

Every man was born from the bark, and from the bark he shall grow.

His tree of life ever sprouting upward, until the end of his time.

As the branches grow, so does his soul, so do the things he shows.

But, we often forget the underlying roots, stories yet to shine.

 

Within every wood lies the sanctity of its heart,

And underneath the great Oak lies the heart's veins.

Roots, spread wide, the teeming lifeblood of the bark.

Hidden by the hulking mass of the wood, all you can see.

 

But why?

 

The conundrum of the tree mirrors the fault of man,

for we cling tightly to the importance of what is merely a shell.

It bears fruit, it provides shade, but the bark does nothing on its own.

The bark is skin deep, but the roots, they are the soul.

 

If the bark becomes our foundation, what of the roots that hold it up?

If the leaves are our life force, what of the blood running through the veins?

We just keep digging deeper and deeper in the wrong direction.

Ignoring the importance of what we simply cannot see.

 

And like the tree, we eventually fall. Enslaved to the hands of men.

Forced to embody what we were never meant to become.

We dig deeper in the wrong direction, until eventually we fall.

And become just a part of a much larger structure

 

Stripped of our very soul.