My brothers know not what they do, for they do not hear the voice of The Tree. Each day, under the guise of religion, we scar the very deity which we hold so sacred. None other hear the screaming and crying and pleading of The Tree as we hack its immortal flesh away. They think I am mad. I am not mad. I fear I am the only sane soul cast unto this place by the wretched thing I call God.I am using AI as an editing tool, not as a source of ideas or as a ghost writer.