The Tree of Life

The Tree of Life needs nourished roots
if not to keep its heart within its boots.
Its leaves will wither, rust and die
before they learn to reach the sky.
Its twigs and branches would be strong
if only loved and nurtured all along.
The brilliant colours seen in light
mask those leaves kept out of sight
and shadows thrown across its soul
reveal the gaps in bark and bole.
But within its trunk both gnarled and new,
flows full life's force, straight and true.
It's boughs give haven; safe for all,
shelter from the storms and squall.
Genus stranglers won't gain grip
around this bright viridian strip.
If it were not for its tenacious tread,
its life would hang as on a thread.
Take heed tho', this hold upon the land
can slip away like grains of sand