Sprouted in soil,
not rich nor poor
surprisingly the seedling grows under
the toughest conditions.
Nature is false, though one may not believe-
the burning in the blistering summer,
the drowning in the spring
the Identity ripped away in the fall
and the double edge of winter,
beautiful and bitter.
Only time has shown appreciation
towards the seedling, giving it
on a daily basis, now a sapling
strength and wisdom acquired
each new year; something gained
But nature furious at time's progression-
takes the rage out on the sapling;
a branch broken
Time heals this injury
but more are sure to follow as the anger rises,
so does the intensity of these wounds
later a storm progresses
and lightning strikes
the sapling suffers at the rage of nature.
A sole protector stands Alone
guarding the Treasure,
as old and beaten,
Alone, against the world-
refusing any help, this is Her fight.
to nature's elements and insects
that attack the vulnerable possession.
Another joins the fight-
waving away objections
bringing tools to heal,
helping to guard
now two brave the world,
burdens shared, protection from harm,
a sacred Treasure.