Once upon a time stood a tree.
Then it stood no more.
The tree stood aging but still going strong.
There before my time and yours.
Seen generational tears of the unknown.
Voices of the unheard and vulnerability of the brave.
The uncried tears and the bottled up pain.
The forbidden love and the untold stories.
All sat under it one after another in confession.
This very book, the same tree.
Wide open but none able to read.
Written with invisible ink.
On an invisible pad.
Even its writers cannot read.
From the genius, to the lowly man.
All have been there, under it and up it.
In tears, laughter, anger and pain.
They all visited and poured their hearts on it.
Without fear, pride or hesitation.
And only the truth.
The same tree heard it all.
The brave unveiling their weaknesses.
The confident lacking courage.
The Liars telling plain truth.
The betrayers owning up.
All abiding in it, a good listener.
Who just listened and made one feel better.
Without being judged.
Then one day they all passed by.
Wondering if they are lost.
Where the tree stood.
It stood no more. The Axe had visited.
But with a different mission.
Filled with jealousy, ended its life.
Bringing it down.
Yes, and with it went down.
All the greatest stories Ever told,.
Deepest secrets, shocking lies and bizarre truth.
If it could have spoken loud.
If people could have read it.
Who would have believed its contents.
Stories too good, too pathetic.
Too shocking, too heartbreaking.
Yet all true, only the tree knew it all.
And heard it all.
Some signed their names on it.
Some kicked it out of anger.
Some climbed up it.
Most sat under its shed.
leaned on its shoulder.
Crying, laughing singing.
That was before the Axe.