A Terrible Parable That Doesn't Work in Process

I climbed the tallest tree, only to find out
it was a mountain of grand fathom,
which turned into a water tower
and then a giant mushroom
to which, one would think,
was expanse great enough
to hold all secrets held so long at bay,
could be, would be, and should be carved,
and yet all the world crumbled
at my very lightest touch
as I sought to dig and delve,
a place to let go all I had to say,
in whispers and quiet abandon,
words so long withheld,
but the world of worlds
collapsed in my hands,
no hole deep enough to house,
the yet untold, holding me still,
tonight and every dawn,
the likes of short matchsticks,
burning to my quick
and I am rendered, yet again.