The Stubborn Heart

The root of a tree supports its skyward branches,
Knowing not of the wind or how sunshine answers.
It refuses to budge, creeps without contrition,
Assuming its survival is the proof of nutrition.
Its crooked network is deep, entwined beyond reason,
That’s the way it is and will be, regardless of season.
Cut down its whole tree, you still won't hear it plead!
All that's left is its death or rebirth through a seed...

~Poet of Ephraim