A tree stands tall on soil,
A human on earth,
The ground,
forming soils upper 'crust'.
But what would thou be,
If sans was the soil first?

We origunated from the soil,
Evolve through it,
One day, we'll be this soil
The soil, on which thou may never sit.

Life still isn't a thing,
without this mere soil.
It endures so much,
Yet gives back peace.
And complains not,
Of its strife's and greifs!

The food we eat,
The air we breathe,
Will all be futile,
Sans soil beneath.

There wouldn't be trees,
Would fresh air we'd breath?
The water we drink,
Would'en really be free?
And Oh, the ground that
Endures you feet,
Would you be standing,
Without the soil beneath?

The soil forms lifes,
Aids us live,
But little we know,
Of its sincerest deeds!

It burns itself,
To prevent us  from heat,
It wettens itself,
And absorbs all heat.

The birds,
The beasts,
the tinniest creatue indeed,
Are the elements indebted
to soil in brief.

Thou life is but this soil,
The soil that reings life,
we are the trees,
Who stand on it,
Who laugh, endure,
Learn, speak,
Yet keeps so much,
like those little seeds.

Thy parent are seeds,
And the roots to be
Thy friends are leaves,
That may shed in weeks,
Thy siblings the arms,
Those helping hands in deeds.

The soil of life,
Sees success, misfortune and griefs,
Yet fertile is the one,
Who masters to smile even in adversities.
The soil is major part of eternity,
And our lives an essential part,
The part, we then call as an 'evergrowing tree'