Imagine before you a globular heap,
remnants of that which you ate.
See it arranged before you,
all stacked on one giant plate.

Are you a tower of rotting flesh?
Or dust from fields golden grown?
Do you draw life from an elder branch,
a crop of the plot long sewn?

Can you stand firm throughout the long storm,
with roots held fast to ground?
Do you sync by the rhythms of seasons?
Does your resilience in volumes resound?

They tell us we are what we eat,
and to always believe what we see.
If seeking a being to emulate,
trust the winds and be as the tree.