To Pine

Your beauty stems out of my soul,
Your vibrant green needles, that are worshipped by the blue sky and puffy, white clouds,
The aged, wise trunk that can get through anything,
The shape of a bullet, Pine, you're shooting through my desires,
Adding a touch of the best reality,

And, then, they came to cut you down,
They took a revolving blade to the thick crust of your being,
They took you to slave you for your beauty and strength,
Pine, they're taking you to cut you, and saw you to pieces,
The fresh, crisp aroma of you being destroyed filled their nostrils,

The seeds of your children have fallen to the ground,
To be rooted with the help of Water and Sunshine,
Then, they will keep up the process again, and again,
Until they slash you all down, Pine.