The Climb

It came from a seed alone
a small, pathetic seed
that happened
to fall
in the right
insignificant
patch of dirt.

And then it grew.

Slowly at first,
Emergent roots, digging down,
chutes peeping through the topsoil
fighting their way
towards the light,
blazing a path towards the sky.

And so it grew.

Branches, leaves,
inching higher, wider,
expanding.
Carving a place for itself
from thin air,
until nothing could hope
to challenge it.

And so it was grown.

But the tree grew old, inert,
and new threats came.
A vine, one morning,
until that day downtrodden,
ground dwelling,
found its way to the tree
and used it.
Used the work the giant had done
to pull itself
up.
Before the vine had been weak,
now it stole the strength to lift itself,
to scale the heights
of the tree that
came before it.

And so it grew,

climbing and binding
and squeezing,
suffocating,
wrapping itself tighter and tighter
and tighter
pushing itself upwards,
squeezing the life from the tree
until
it could no longer breathe.

And so it was grown.

And years later, the vine remained,
decorating, desecrating
the skeleton
of she that had
blazed the trail.

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