Towering above the sea of green, the evergreen stands.

To the Heavens it rises, held by the hands of God.

Left to suffer, its aged roots permanently shackled to the earth.

Through wind and blaze, thunder and frost, its spine withstands.

Dead needles shower the land from above.

A carpet of frailed thorns and dust resides for the king.

Creatures bow to the high and mighty, the tyrant of the land.

Threads of silk, the summer snow woven around its branches.

A fresh aroma of a thousand scents captivates in the breeze.

Nourishing the ill and defending the meek, the protecting hand.

Decades into centuries can not halt its ongoing reign.

For when the time does come, the world will cease to exist.

Towering above the earth, the evergreen stands.