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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 Knowledge, on a daily basis, now a sapling strength and wisdom acquired each new year; something gained nothing lost 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- Always fighting, refusing any help, this is Her fight. heartwood exposed 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 Giving-in accepting help- now two brave the world, burdens shared, protection from harm, a sacred Treasure.