Torn is the branch that might have grown fully upwards and straight,
And ripped are the roots from down below
That one time grew from within this tall trunk.
The leaves are gone: regard its fiendish fall,
Where misfortune did exhort thy life
Only to wonder at scattered saplings,
Their deepness doth entice such forward hope
To return to heavenly heights as nature permits.
AGAINST THE FLOW OF TRAFFIC - ACTON28.BLOG 