A tree and a human, stood face to face,
Each convinced their life cycle, took the proper pace.

The tree spoke first, "My cycle's slow and grand,
From seed to sapling, to maturity's stand.
Four stages mark my growth, each one a test,
But in the end, I stand tall, and forever rest."

The human scoffed, "Your cycle's dull and grey,
Mine's a journey of discovery, every step of the way.
From egg to infant, to child and adolescent too,
My five stages are a story, of growth, of trials I pursue."

The tree retorted, "Your cycle's fleeting and fast,
Mine's a marathon of patience, that forever will last.
My roots run deep, my branches wide,
A symbol of strength, that will not subside."

The human countered, "Your roots may run deep,
But mine's a journey of the soul, where love and dreams do creep.
My cycle's a tapestry, of laughter and of tears,
A story of a life, that's lived through all the years."

"You're just a fleeting thought, a moment's foolish pride,"
The human sneered at the tree, with a condescending stride.

The tree shot back, "You're just a fragile, feeble thing,
A brief, shining moment, before your pitiful sting.
My roots run deep, my branches wide,
I'll outlast you, human, and watch your species subside."

The human snarled, "You may have longevity on your side,
But I have intellect, and a spirit that won't be denied.
I'll achieve greatness, while you're stuck in one place,
A static, stagnant thing, with no life, no pace."

To debate with one who cannot see,
Is to shout into the wind, wild and free.
Their blindness to your truth, a futile test,
A waste of breath, on an unyielding nest.