A hot simmering summer and a forlorn tree, placed prominently in the foreground, have immeasurable wisdom to convey. The breeze is warm and blowing in all directions the mind can take, festering the land of man and women with whirl devils. Pinionated to its pride on the ground of its birth, this tree is an epitome of courage as if resisting rancorous thinkers of heaven and earth and at the same time exuding profound beauty with its terse arborisation denuded of foliage, symbolising equability in discomfit. The tree characterises a bouddhic melee with the nature of things, stultified yet endowed with puerile hortatory of nothingness. Profanity would too find a place underneath this tree, among the penetrating and onerous light from the heavens and the swaddling winds of the land. An abrupt mystical and perspicacious vision fords this external torment with inner peace. Profanity in obsolescence may be the way to the singular religion when the self-pejorative, tenuous caul of beliefs is gradually denuded. And once again, the lonesome tree will bloom to comfort the traveller, reborn in ignorance with the comfort of singularity. And then again another season shall follow.