Cycle of Revival

Sometimes my arms are bare the rest of my body naked and exposed When the weather is worm I don my clothes of flowers and leaves blossoming with the newfound sun My feet forever rooted to the ground my life forever in a cycle of revival Sharing my beauty with the world until an axe brings it all crumbling down in a heap All signs of beauty and grace are lost in a heap of twisted limbs The cycle of revival is no more