What is the point of trees?
Besides the obvious answer that they keep us alive.
But why are we so drawn to them?
Why are they so appealing to the human eye?
They are held captive by the storm.
We chop them down, build upon them.
We forget them after a little while.
Looking out over a hill.
There are thousands of trees.
They are all different.
Yet all alike.
Overtaken, they crumble.
By more ambitious creatures.
So are we not like trees?
Are we so different?
Just one out of a million.
Just a leaf over an overlook.
We have breathe.
But should we long to have breathe?
I would rather be a tree.