Red bark with white flowers. However impossible, nothing quite compares to its beauty. Tended with care by Mother Nature herself; an effort to bring a new child to her garden. A tall tree with thick, long roots that reach to all corners of the Earth. Long, gracefully swiveling branches that hug the sky with the kindest embrace. Splashed with the purest of waters and receiver of the warmest of sun rays. A tree meant to last through the ages. To be in its presence is akin to feeling weightless. It bears big, juicy fruits that taste like ambrosia and with them bud flowers that seem to glow. Petals floating through the wind can be mistaken for a pair of wings from the highest of angels. The growth of such a magnificent specimen of life shows a radiance not deserving of Earth. But behind such splendor is a truth far darker than the ocean's deepest trenches. To obtain looks to rival the gods, sacrifices were to be made. The bark is entrenched with blood of anything the approaches it. To embrace the foliage is the same as embracing death. A Venus Flytrap of epic proportions; a harbinger of tragedy. If one squints, the God of Death can be seen among the many branches eating from the fruits. One after another, from men, to women, to children. The more who are entranced, the bigger the tree grows. The more who are immolated, the more flowers and fruits bloom. To live is to die and to die is to live. One is not without the other, in any such case.