The great tree cut down is God descended into a man and living now among the animal states, feeding on grass, wet with dew, no longer aware that he is the Most High. Yet the roots are left, banded with iron and brass, and here is the whole promise. The stump held in the ground is your own buried divinity, bound so it cannot be lost while you pass through the field of human experience.
Iron and brass are the strength of that binding: what looks like the lowest reduction is in fact the seed kept safe. The man crawls with the beasts for a season, forgetting who he is, until the appointed time turns. Then the stump that seemed dead sends up its golden life, and God rises in you as yourself, individualized. Nothing was destroyed. It waited in the earth of your own being.