The Tale of The Tree

The Tale of the Tree

There is a big tree somewhere deep inside my heart. It reflects its splendour in my dreams. It hasn't spoken to me lately, but I know she will make it sing, in a familiar tune my ears are longing to hear.
        She is made of grass, stone and brine; held together with yellow strands of gold. I met her inside a big white building with walls thicker than both my hands put together. She was sitting on a old, wooden bench overlooking the sky, and beyond.There was no wind that day, yet, I felt a soft tingle inside me. It must have been the bees nudging the emerald leaves of the big tree.

         Sometimes the words coming out of her mouth resonates inside me. The words are never carefully chosen, but they always fit my imagination, magically. Beyond those words is a sense of well being I feel inside her, which recreates my sense of being; slowly, surely, strongly; like tiny rain drops slowly obliterating the sky upon the pond.
         I shouted out her name against heavy rain splattering inside me.
"The storm stopped only when it rained," she said, " incessantly, across the valley, turning the red earth blue; as blue as the ripened berries on the big tree."

     Throughout a rain washed sultry night I meditated every syllable of the word I understood as her name. It was the longest night in the history of the universe. The longest night...in the history of the universe...of the universe...

      The universe never listens to me, but I listen to the universe. I put my ears on the black earth and listen to the wide hum of the earth moving through the ether. I close my eyes to listen further, across the thick, dark jelly; past the grainy blue planets; but my ears fail me. The noise inside my mind restricts me, but never distracts me. I return to the earth every night, in search of dreams.

      She saved me once from myself...from the murky grey quagmire. She pulled on my elbow and jerked me back to reality. When she was screaming at the top of her voice, the tree quietly smiled at her. She broke a few tender branches that day, but it was necessary. While the soft green tissues mended themselves, rolling fluids broke me.

     The universe never ends. It moves around, in a continuous relationship with itself. The tree never dies. It grows, in a continuous relationship with the universe. I never wake. I dream, in a continuous relationship with her.

       Just beyond the town, right in the middle of the city, there is a big marble palace reflecting the sun into the eyes of the distant traveller. It is surrounded with deep emerald tree lines enclosing soft pastel shades of green.

      She sat beside me. In the blissful shade she was humming, like a bee, a song of the ancients. It felt like a series of pristine incantations about the times of peace, the times of rain, the times of joy, the times of plenty. I could feel the vibrations coming out of her heart; They were crossing mine, in circles of delight and dread.

                    After a while the maddening enchantment stopped. I could open my eyes. As I looked at her I saw her lips, purplish red with divine energy, and they were inside mine before I knew it. "The tree never bends," she uttered, "but the heart does."