Misguided

I stand with clear conviction, with certainty, and determination. I feel the strength of my branches, the solidity of my trunk, and the firmness of my base. I look down and see nothing but solid ground.   I feel my roots worming through such seemingly rich and stable soil.  I don't understand that my perspective affords me just a small fragment of my own reality.  I don't recognize that what I see and feel is just an illusion; that the ground I stand on is so fragile and precarious; so susceptible to the smallest disruption.