anonymous poetry

There is a layer of red clay crushed under a mountain
It is about 18 inches deep and crumbles at the touch
That is, the parts that are exposed and touchable
The parts that you cannot see are being crushed
Under the infinite weight of the mountain
Those parts are not crumbling.

Though that hidden layer is not crumbling now
It will crumble at some point in the distant future
Because though it is withstanding the pressure now
It is still red clay
If it is ever exposed and touched it will break
There is no doubt
The only doubt is, will it ever be exposed

Consider the small tree that is growing
Out from the side of the same mountain that is crushing the crumbly red clay.
The seed goes into the mountain
The tree shoot comes out of the mountain
The roots of the tree penetrate deep into the mountain
The roots rather enjoy all the pressure
From the infinitely massive mountain.
The roots are comfy in there
There is no doubt
The tree meanwhile does not look to be doing great
It is upside down at the moment
Because of the elements
On the outside of the mountain.
The mountain doesn't seem to care for the tree
Neither do the elements
But the tree extracts what it needs from both
And the tree is ALIVE.