A story about a tree, a boy and their destiny... Child and a Tree

www.igallopon.com

There was once a tree Long had it stood Through snow, storm and hail Bearing the test of time and ravages of seasons

To make perfect its art Of stealing from the Sun some light Hint of moisture from the air The essence of the earth it sipped silently

And all its effort and knowledge, it put to create the perfect fruit For which it had come to be a tree

While it waited for the day, when the one would come the one for whom the fruit was meant to be

For the tree had dreamt When it was but a seed The one would come and claim its fruit For the fruit contained the blueprint of his dreams

So the tree perfected its art And kept its secret to itself It would know when the one would come It would then bring out its fruit and be free

Then one day, after the turn of many an age The passing of many a king and kingdoms On the passage of many moons and many a season The tree heard the patter of feet meant for it

Came a little child, and said to his friend: ‘I had a dream, there’s a tree Which has a fruit meant for me Were I to have it, I need worry no more

For the fruit contains seeds to my dream, unseen As also a map of how I can make it be!’

The tree sighed, at last its tryst was here The one for whom it was meant to be Soon the child would find its fruit And soon would it fulfill its destiny

Yet the child talked and played and chatted Paying no attention to the fruit nor the tree The tree shook its branches, waved its leaves Swayed its vines, but to no avail it would be

'Oh, unfriendly is the tree' the child cried 'Its leaves shiver and wind through it whooshes It must be haunted, from here let’s verily flee' The child picked his cane and turned to his friend

Its then the tree realised that the keeper of its tryst Was there, but was blind, beset it wondered as to what could it do, what would come out to be?

For the tree couldn’t speak the tongue of man An the child couldn’t perceive the fruit on the tree

The tree was grounded in despair; its fruit would soon fall The child bewildered wandered about, in search of a dream While at the two luckstruck life laughed aloud How silly could some beings be?

So life let them be the child, the truth and the tree There was ambrosia to be churned from the strife Or the tree wouldn’t desire to speak the language of man Nor would the child desire the will to see some fruit of a tree

The fruit was but a ruse to make them grow And know that they each had treasures deep within Else the tree would continue to believe that it was dumb And the child would forever believe he couldn’t see

  • Abhi

For some reason I can't seem to comment in Medhajournal. I do hope I'll be able to participate in the interesting conversations taking place very soon. :)