Grandiloquent

Arciform body, asperous flesh.
Decades in a rooted stance
Embellished in the works of Greats,
A nature's eminence. Each leaf a gem.
Each fruit a crystalline étoile,
Brimming with a metaphor
For time, morality, and death.
Prodigious in its unawareness.
Abundant in beauty, limitless in language
A million uses for pretentious egos.
Surely, it is tired of being used.
Maybe, it is content in just existing.
Maybe, symbols found are in our heads.
And maybe, in a shocking twist of fate,
It's just a tree.