The Seed of Hope

I planted a seed of hope.

I planted a seed of hope, and it grew with longing, and it grew with faith, and it grew with strength, until it became a tree. It wanted to live happily. So I nursed it, and I cared for it, and made it happy. Until it wasn't.

That tree of hope became jealous, tired, and angry; angry at the sun, how it did not always shine; tired of the same bird song every morning; and jealous of how other tree's leaves danced gracefully in the wind, even though the tree was even more grand than the others.

And then one day, a lumberjack came along.
'It's too bad,' he said. 'This is a beautiful tree.'
But despite that, he began to chop down the tree.

Chop.
Chop.
Chop.

The tree creaked and groaned and cried 'help, help!' But the snakes were gone, the squirrels had run off, and the birds had flown away.

Chop.
Chop.
Chop.

In that moment the tree of hope realized that it's life was
not that bad. The sun still shone, the birds' songs gave life to the forest, and the tree was astounding - it's own demise had proven it.

Chop.
Chop -- crack!

My seed of hope had gone.
And I realized that it had been too late for a long time.