Brought down low from great heights.
Felled, then left.
Ash to ashes and stump.
But still you persist
with your tiny shoot steps
to recommence your long climb.
Your remaining rings surround you,
mocking with distant memories
of just how far you used to reach.
But still you re-quicken
after losing almost everything,
so surely, I can also try.
I watch over your sprigs,
believing in a tree from twigs,
trusting in slow grown highs.