Toward a darkness shrouded in green, I pass an oak stunted on this high ground.
Its' plight pondered, the Black Jack Oak seems happy and healthy.

As I start my journey to the rift in the ocean, I spot the top of a Black Jack Oak. The rest of the tree seems to be buried. Closer inspection reveals a severed main trunk and the marks of a sharp metallic object. Despite the imposed handicap, the leaves, remaining trunk and branches, all seem in good health. The stunted tree looks happy. Some living beings wither and die when they lose part of themselves, while others continue to live and grow, even thrive, after a loss. The loss can be tangible or intangible. Loss is loss. DY>