A tree.
Some would say the perfect summation of life itself, of creation. A victim of time, and yet in the most beautiful way; it feeds, it grows, and with its growth, it feeds others.
And in turn, those it feeds scatter its essence, furthering its roots…
…But then men came, and what was once a summation of the very essence of life itself became a mere tool.
For the nature of men is not life, but violence and death.
Try as they might to avoid their nature, they will always be reminded of it through tribulations and advancement. For without violence, they are stagnant; for without death, they have no will. Unlike the tree that waits for the water of life to fall upon, men seek it.
"Do you understand?"
"Yes. It was… very poetic, Ambrucx."
"...I feel like your attention is wasted in this."
