The ancient tree looked down obstinately at the fresh young vine as it was beginning to make its way up the tree's weathered bark.

 "Why should I let you live?" asked the old tree.

"I am the eye of nature that defines both your beauty and your decay," replied the vine.

The ancient tree looked down obstinately at the fresh young vine as it was beginning to make its way up the tree's weathered bark.

 "Why should I let you live?" asked the old tree.

"There is great peace of mind in the smallest act of empathy," replied the vine.

The ancient tree looked down obstinately at the fresh young vine as it was beginning to make its way up the tree's weathered bark.

 "Why should I let you live?" asked the old tree.

"While I am defining your dimensions and singularity, I make you part of something greater than yourself," replied the vine.

The ancient tree looked down obstinately at the fresh young vine as it was beginning to make its way up the tree's weathered bark.

"Why should I let you live?" asked the old tree.

"The cords that bind us can be stronger than those that pull us apart," replied the vine.

The tree neither respond to, or destroyed the young vine.

The ancient tree looked down obstinately at the fresh young vine as it was beginning to make its way up the tree's weathered bark.

"Why should I let you live?" asked the old tree.

"I am older than you are, and I know where you came from," replied the vine.

"I am the dream that you cannot quite remember, the first song that you sing in the morning. I am the cord that binds the rings of your life."

The ancient tree looked down obstinately at the fresh young vine, as it was beginning to make its way up the tree's weathered bark.

"Why should I let you live?" asked the old tree.

"I know why the jaguar looks at it's feet," replied the vine.