There is                                               a twisted                                                   tree
    in the distance..                            with branches                                   reaching
     toward the                                      sky, forever                                  searching
        for the hand                              of God to come                                and fix the
       tormented                                   twisting limbs...                          to save it from
    the men that                                    want its bark                                and its heart
  and its old                                         and ancient                                     soul...but to
     its dismay                                        the tree does                                   not receive
       the help it seeks                           from the god it                            searched for
          and waited for                          and prayed to                          and hoped
                for in the dead                   of the night and                  the sting of
                       the day...                      because the god            it was expecting
                               turned               his back so long ago      that the
                                       whole earth forgot that he was real...so
                                            why is it, tree, that you still search
                                                for this god that has forsaken
                                                    us all? could you hold
                                                    an ancient truth buried
                                                    in your twisted frame?
                                                    I see this tree far away
                                                    Standing­ alone against
                                                    The starry sky, and I
                                                    Wonder how it got there
                                                     And how it has stayed
                                                    So long...It is then that
                                                  I notice the eerie whispers
                                               on the wind, coming from the
                                             archaic tree...and I realize that the
                                    god to which it begged for helo really did exist
                          because it he didn't, that beautiful, tattered, twisted tree
                 would have                                                             ­      been gone
                 years before                                                           ­      I could've
                    stumbled                            ­                                     upon its
                        grace...