Asking myself why wait to view the reflection Believing I am not an assistance but an obstacle Medicating reluctant addicts Whom found paradise of pleasure Does inflicting the pain of reality make A suspect of me? Because we wander where birds sing Stumbled upon the rarest of trees Uprooted from winds of despondence It bears sweet fruit from all seas Yet stands only 5 feet But the fruit she bears now Will only grow to a ripe so perfect So she needs patience And we want to do our all to revive her Knowing one day many would Lay under her coolest shade While being nourished by her fruits As winter proves its growth We bare our souls to this tree Growing to appreciate its response to my hearts shedding Soon It reveals branches missing We find new nomads Plucking its branches for the immediate heat Summoning a bonding and cloaking spell While under its shade It knows nothing of the nomads intentions Neither do we Does she believe the heat of its own branches is that similar to the same dedication and care? We know nothing But nomads seem to have pitched their tents long before us Where empathetic fallacy prolongs We think our prayers and pleas will awaken her from our adversaries But is it useless? If this tree enjoys the fire this clan brings from her own branches Should we intervene? Bewilderment Frustration Maybe it is an effort in futility Or maybe this special bearer of fruit Illuminates in time and protects itself from future fires What drives us and draws us to it? Why is it so important to us to watch over this tree? It needs not or wants not to be watched over. It needs and wants the pain of the fire brought beneath it Even as its bark warms soft its leaves burn of confusion By what the acts intentions may be And our tribe has lost many battles due to this tendency Of tending to those who refuse it Our fatal flaw