Faith of Trees

I pondered for a while the argument of christianity that God made man in his own image.... I amused myself with the idea that god created leaves in his own image.... after a year or two sitting on it, this rose to the surface.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE FAITH OF TREES

 

 

 

 

             

           

 

            Daniel Raby.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1. The Faith of Trees.

 

There is beauty in the trees, with green that shines like gold. The sun is the halo of the trees, and on some days when the clouds grow dark and their black blocks the sun, the trees seek no shelter, but rather strongly sway under the crack of lightning.

Whilst other creatures fritter and flee, wether they are large or small, and wether they are slow or have speed, all in all they sing no more, and their movement once merry and wild and bright with the force of nature becomes no more than the ritual seeking of shelter. It is a pity to watch a sad creature moaning and shivering wet in the cold.

The trees however, for the duration of the storm their green darkens to a richness that comes from within. They shake and dance with the deadly wind as both a defiance and an accessory. Thunder peals from the clouds and the trees grow restless with expectancy, for the clouds bring rain, and all trees know this, that the rain brings sustenance so that trees may grow taller. And one day, so it is told firm amongst the tree-trunks, and whispered with delicate understanding amongst the leaves who clutch in fear against the wind, a single tree may grow tall enough to reach the sun, though no one knows whom this tree might be, or when it will happen. But when it is finally achieved the trees will no longer need the sun for a Halo. The trees will be a sustenance unto themselves. Such is the wisdom of trees, and their cause for revering the sun and the heights of the sky as they do.

 

The wisdom and faith of trees also encourages them into certain acts of kindness. Though many believe the trees incapable of action, is it not true that they house the birds, and as an act of kindness do nothing to prevent the birds from making themselves at home. This is no mean accomplishment, considering the sought of mixed feelings that a bird can conjure up within a tree, what with flying so lighthearted to heights that a tree works twice as hard only to dream of, and on the destructive nature of the wind at that. Many a tree, both in the past and in the future, has wished that with all its might it could standover the birds and throw them from its branches, and many have come close to doing so. Even further, some fanatical trees suffering deep with envy, have at times desired to pull the birds from the sky, so that none may fly higher than the tree-tops again. But alas, such an act would be a small victory, for the trees in doing so would be no closer to the sun, and the wisdom of the tree-trunk tells them that the birds may yet serve a purpose beyond merely taunting and tempting them, the silent seeds amongst the branches seem to shake knowingly, and with pure potential at such a thought, though no one knows why. But still, never has a single branch or twig ever shaken with malicious intent against a bird, and this is a powerful act of the faith of trees.

 

It is not so much the heights birds reach that can inflame a trees indignancy, it is more the birds chosen means of doing so. For the trees hate the wind as a destroyer, few things can bring down a tree so quickly and suddenly, and with such a devastatingly visual display than the wind, and many leaves and branches have been torn from the hold of the tree-trunk, to be lost forever into the great unknown. Such wanton waste without adequate compensation, the wind is evil and can only come to harm a tree. The birds so carefree, soar to places which no tree can know, the tree’s stand in awe of their height, and so love them and maintain peace with them, the birds song however is bittersweet, for it comes from above, yet it is carried by the wind, and the birds seem to delight in taunting the trees with their flight.

‘Nothing that can soar to such heights can be entirely bad,’ says the tree trunk.

But still, the birds fly in the face of a tree’s reasoning, and are constant tempters to a tree’s faith.

 

 

 

 

 

2.    The Paradox of Trees and the Nature of Their Society.

 

The tree trunks specifically, and more so than any other parts of the tree, long for the heights of the sky. For it is their lot that they have become the centre and stubborn strength of the tree’s society, so stubborn in fact that most other animals in the wild would call them stupid. Even us humans have not attributed the tree trunks with much thought, which is probably why not much is known about their society. And besides, the trees are well aware of what the other animals say about them. So much so that they have turned the tables completely and over time come to see being stupid as a compliment concerning their faithful stubbornness. Indeed, you could walk right up to a tree-trunk and say right to its face, if it had one, that it was thick and stupid, and it would love you for it, for quite literally it has a head full of wood.

Well, not really, because it has no head at all, but still, whatever it has consists almost entirely of wood. This is the reason for all of the tree-trunks glorious stupidity and stubbornness and faith, and it spreads out at varying degrees through the whole tree.

The roots who never see the sun, but collect and toil and ballast against the wind, who work in the dark depths with the worms and the dead silent, life rich soil of the earth. It is the roots that love the invisible sun, who hold the force of inspiration to dig deeper and in doing so nourish the rest of the tree. The roots are full of contradictions. They love the sun and therefore cherish the darkness, they long for the heights and so must dig deeper and further away from sight. They love the silence of soil below more than the sky. They are friend to the worms.

It is true words that say the roots of trees are dark and strange, and it is only by their connection with the tree trunk, through which they have been given an ample supply of stubbornness, that any animal would believe them of tree kind at all.

The roots are no less stupid than the tree-trunk, but due to their complexities, and the innate polarities of their existence, they have for a long time, in fact for as long as time can tell, been endowed with powers way beyond themselves. The upper parts of the tree see the roots as the keepers of hidden wisdom, the secret strength.

The tree-trunk however, who is strong and stupid in its faith, maintains that the sun is always the inspiration of the darkness, and therefore the precursor to all knowledge.

The leaves and branches listen intently, and absorb the tree-trunks wisdom as truth; the tree-trunk is so highly respected. It is ironic that it is also to blame for the mystical surroundings of the roots, for when the leaves cry, as they are prone to do, and when they see their brother and sister leaves blown far and wide unknown in all the directions of the wind, and they ask why and for the meaning of things. The tree trunk tells them with all of its faith shining dull and stupid as wood, that although the leaves when perished blow wild with the wind, in whatever direction, it is always to the roots that they return. And it continues by saying that although it mourns every leaf blown astray, it also celebrates the fact that its death feeds the whole, and would go even further by saying that the entire earth is made from fallen leaves. The leaves and branches listen intently, and absorb the tree-trunks wisdom as truth. It seems ludicrous that the world is made from fallen leaves, and most people would write this off as merely poetic, but I daresay there are some leaves who believe this as true, and love the earth as though it were composed of their own being and nothing else. In truth they are alike to the earth as the child is to a mother. In a sense they are one and the same, but in more immediately powerful ways they are both entirely different.

 

The leaves are much like humankind in the fact that they face death as a reality every day, and in knowing death as something more real and constant than most other parts of the tree they feel deepest the shadow of doubt, they feel the wisdom of the tree-trunk as the light of inspiration, something that is beyond them, and which they cling to all the same as it were life itself.

It is the tree-trunk who is most unlike humanity, for as humanity values gold and all things that are rare, the faithfully stupid tree-trunk loves what is most common, namely, wood, as this is its almost entire composition, and its reason for being, it’s only way of reaching the sun.

 

 

 

 

 

3. Samuel the Tree.

 

Now there was one tree, whose name was Samuel, and I can talk about him now that we both share a deeper understanding of him. For he is much like any other tree, and if you can name him as a whole tree, then it would be like the name of a city, because there are many parts of a tree, as many parts to a tree as there is to an individual person, and a person has a name that encompasses the whole, so Samuel the tree is known as Samuel, though there are many parts that encompass him.

He was a fine tree, and he grew away from the wild forest with which many associate the truth of trees. His life was in a garden, though he did not grow on the same terms as the garden, he was wild and tall as the forest through which his faith and instinct dreamed of. And many birds came to him and made their home, though as of yet Samuel had never met an entirely wise bird, so he reasoned that half wise was all that one could expect a bird to be.

 

Other plant life, though they loved and respected Samuel, found that they could not get close to him in height, for so tall and wide was the reach of his branches, and so impressive was his desire for the sun, that a great shadow was cast on all the land beneath him.

This shadow was cast from Samuel’s love of the sun, and he was so respected amongst the grass and flowers and shrubs that they all seemed to grow regardless, as if they had forsaken the sun for him, or else the sun lived vicariously through Samuel.

 

 If any tree wished to grow as tall they would not so much have to reckon with Samuel himself, who was benevolent and respected such things as independence within a tree. But his shadow flat over the grassland, cast over perfectly bunched flowers cased in borders of stone.

His shadow, gold as the dead leaves of an autumn that is eternal and far beyond Samuel’s control. 

If any tree were inspired to grow then it would have to do so outside of the shadows reach, from a distance gathering the sunlight, and from a distance the inspiration of Samuel reaching quiet across the open air, with life so strong and a song that no wind however constant can carry or do away with.

 

 

 

 

 

4. Samuel and Eli.

 

Shallowness is a grave that is dug six feet below, but deep in the shadow of Samuel, amongst the birds and the flowers and the bees that they bring. Amongst the darkness of beautifully coloured roses sat the stump of an old tree withered and warm with the buzzing of wildlife. With crooked edges staggering up dead in the air and remnants of old earth stuffed into its cracks like mould. Strung together with spider webs wet in the morning dew and spun by unseen spiders, creatures cast deep in wooden caves. The thorns of the surrounding flowers pierced the air like a funeral, though none of them knew the stump in life. To them it was as nameless as the ever-present earth.

Samuel referred to the stump as Eli, and he never referred to him at all except under the most strenuous circumstances. He would cry through the Thickness of a storm and in the silence that follows faraway lightning,

“By the stump of Eli I will not fall, two stumps do not make a tree, and it takes less of a tree to make two stumps, and so by the stump of old Eli who lives in the dark of my own shadow I will not fall.”

And under flashing bright skies he would seem to grow impossibly tall and invigorated. Somewhere in the world the sun would be smiling, and the darkness of Samuel’s shadow, combined with the black valley of the clouds above, would render the old stump near invisible, with no light and only the pelting rain that filtered through a canopy of leaves to piece together its ancient shape in the dark.

 

Long ago when Eli was alive, before the roses bloomed, and before Samuel’s fingers stretched out across the sky, back then there was a wide-open space of fresh air between Eli and Samuel who were both growing freely. Eli was the younger of the two, and Samuel had watched him mature from when he was a young thing yet to grow his first seeds. Together they developed an understanding of life’s mysteries. They lost leaves together and danced with the perilous wind under the sun. Trees are always on the go, as any silent and selfless observer can see, and as it is true that through stillness and quiet a certain truth of life can be seen, so through stillness and quiet both Samuel and Eli grew young and vigorous. They were the only two trees in the vicinity of each other, and so grew to rely upon one another’s character, though as of yet they both remained untested.

Samuel in his youth was firm in his faith and was already showing early signs of stupidity. He considered himself as a fountain of wisdom, growing tall and strong in his stubbornness as all trees should. The birds laughed mockingly with songs of sweet bird faith as they flew above him. Samuel was never tempted to betray his own, even when the birds made their home amongst his leaves he only grew taller. In his dealings with the wind as well, Samuel was never one to give way. If any experienced tree were present then they would love him as the one who would one day reach the sun, though such a thing is presumptuous and a sacrilege to speak of.

But it is true that it took more than a light breeze to make Samuel sway, and Eli would be swinging strongly with the wind before Samuel would even twitch a leaf. For Eli loved the birds so deeply, and even the deadly wind he loved so strong that he would forsake himself for the winds own love, and even though the wind loves nothing but its own cause, so Eli would dwell in his own fascination for the winds own lack of love.

 

 

 

 

 

5. Secrets of the Wind and the Changing Colour of the Clouds.

 

One day of sunshine, that now hangs deep in the past like a star, it was the kind of day that Samuel can now only dream of, for the sun was a young pale yellow and white hue that crossed the borders of the heavens, whereas now it is a big and dark bright orange that covers the sky.

 Eli was playing with a light wind beneath Samuel’s branches, the glow of morning could do nothing to shine upon the depths of Eli’s innocence, and still this innocence shone from Eli’s character like an illuminating light from the sky. Eli had heard nothing of what the wind had to say, though with its gentle touch he thought the wind favoured him. In a light and effortless breeze Eli would sway and listen into the deep silence for any secrets the wind may tell, and when the wind was whistling with every turn of breath, and Eli was swaying deeply and wandering what the wind could possibly be saying to the birds to have them reach such heights, It was at these times that Eli achieved such heights within the lowest point of his own spirit. But when the wind blew strong so that even the birds were thrown down and forced to seek refuge within Samuel’s branches, Eli knew then that there were some truths that could not be told, and could be known by none but the wind.

 

In these past times, though the wind blew just as strong, and life still grew as fervently, the shadows still came and went with the power of the sun, who for all its rising and falling hadn’t changed at all as much as the twisting earth below, though good and bad were still parted out in just an equal measure as today; In this past that for all its brightness outshone the future into darkness, it could be said that the truth was a beautiful thing. The meadows of white clouds were peaceful and the eternal grazing land of the sky seemed open to all that wished to grow. There was not a single thing alive that could fight the deep blue sky, and nothing that could look with heart inside itself and into its dark places and claim to have wisdom higher than the imagination of the clouds.

Then one day the clouds grew dark and the truth became something harsh. The daytime sunlight diminished and the sky disappeared. The birds scattered into the shaking leaves of Samuel whose silent strength was cast down deep into the darkness of his roots. Storms had been before, but this time the clouds rolled in from the horizon and in great numbers clashed like warring continents in the sky, as their silence faded through to thunder that shook the empty air and resonated with a boom so serious it could have come from below the very earth itself.

The wind was singing profusely and loudly songs that nothing else alive could sing, and any creature that had no depth or cause to be alive was quickly blown away. All things were clinging tight to the earth for any sense of stability they could find, and though they held against the earth for fear of the wind taking them, still their spirits were flying with the wind in fear as though it were an everlasting truth. The uncertainty of the future, which was once a scary thing for the innocence of the earth to ponder, now became an only hope and a perpetual safeguard against troubled times, though the wind picked up stronger and drove away the meaning of many things, so that to some the future became nothing at all.

 

 

 

 

                 

6. Eli and the Storm.

 

The grass whipped and belted with the wind against the earth, the seasons were swept away, rocks hard and strong were rolling ruined in the mud, Samuel was standing tall. As the weakest of his branches cracked and were fallen to the ground in despair, the best of Eli’s leaves were shaking clear and bright with hidden inspiration, and were gone through the power of the wind into the sky. What great love Eli had, and what sacrifice he made of himself without even the knowledge of doing so. Amongst the green of whatever leaves remained upon Eli’s body, branches grey and bare jutted out like consuming fire, and reaching up wet through the steaming rain like dead fingers wishing to touch the unseen, they were touched only by the wind. And as the wind rushed past Eli stirring the chill of his wood with cold and wet, it passed him by unnamed and unknown, seen only by the leaves that turned and fell spinning in its wake, left to drag their course along the ground and scratch out their search for truth.

Only a few leaves were carried high enough to fall further away, and so their journey appeared greater to those who fell early, but a single leaf of Eli’s was seen rising steadily above even Samuel himself. The birds whose black eyes reflected the falling rain saw deeply into this event, even today they sing songs of it’s significance amongst the tree tops. The birds follow the wind with ease and go by light unseen by most others, and on this day as they stared at the clouds and falling leaves they saw the rising of Eli pure as the brightest day, a single leaf that carried despite the wind and falling rain towards the sun, and flew into invisible realms of the clouds like the wisdom of all beings. They saw lightning come from the sky and cast its judgement over the world by making Eli fall. It took a lifetime for his trunk, so stubborn as any other tree, to swing and go down with a thud and clump in the mud.

And so it is the testament of the birds that Eli’s name is ascension, he is where the spirit bleeds and where the truth is found, and though many things live beyond their meaning, Eli would die and become the truth of his existence, he would be the inspiration of many things. No one can know the truth, but Eli was standing and he fell and in doing so he knew a truth beyond all others. The falling rain is proof that he fell, the sun is proof that he exists, and what does your existence tell? The sun tells your story, and the words of your soul carry like falling leaves to touch the earth.

 

 

 

 

 

7. Samuel and the Storm.

 

Beneath the dark underbelly of the clouds, where through the havoc of wind and storm no bird could take flight, Samuel was dreaming of the sun. As the wind swept its tide beneath him, as countless of his leaves were gone and torn away, and stray wood wrestled in fits all around him. There was lightning in the sky on the day that he stood tall, and rain fell through his branches like pellets and seeds of stone in the mud. Even Samuel’s roots underground could sense the wind shaking hard by means that were beyond them, though they could not see for themselves the destruction. If they knew of the turmoil above them in the unseen sky, perhaps they would have lost all hope and loosened their hold upon the world. But the roots live through a mystery which perceives in and of itself alone, and feel life as an urge which is beyond all sense of hope, and having no more than the silence of soil to guide them, they still grip into the world today.

Only the leaves who flickered and fell flying into the claws of the earth had vision beyond the demise of Samuel, they were carried by the wind far a field, and saw the trail of the earth extend before them, they saw more in their journeys than even the birds can see in their flight, for they felt the sting of their own mortality, and saw the wide earth travelling beyond their reach, moving with speed and distance into places greater than their own decay.

These leaves were never seen again, and haven’t the chance to speak to others of what they saw. They are pitied by the remains of Samuel for their suffering, respected for their sacrifice, and mourned for their great loss.

 

 

 

 

 

8. The Falling of Samuel After the Storm Subsides.

 

When the clouds rolled away and the blue sky once more furthered the world’s perception, the colours of fallen leaves and brushwood littered the ground. Samuel, who was still standing though his leaves had become somewhat thinner, once again grew into the steady gaze of the sun.

The birds came out like thread to join the world to peaceful skies, and with the buzzing insects swirling in the warmth of the sunlight over Samuel they formed a sort of motley crown that twisted in and out of his reach.

When Samuel saw amidst the relief and harmony of all this colour the trunk of Eli broken and lying wet with the soft rain and fresh green grass of the garden, and the charcoal black scars of lightning upon the stump that held in Eli’s place, what more can be said but Samuel was fallen in spirit. The remaining leaves upon his body shook with an internal force much greater than any shallow wind, his trunk sagged and bowed down to the tip of his roots and even deeper. So deep was his sadness that it was more than even the earth could bear, and the birds sang louder and the insects buzzed brighter all the more, and filled the sky with movement so that the earth would not be led entirely astray. It is thanks to these creatures that the earth is still turning, and that guiding stars in darkness still give way to the blinding sun and heat of inspiration. The sky rolls on like an endless reel, but all of this movement did little to quell the heart of Samuel, who for all of his sadness could not fix upon the idea of Eli’s death. He saw Eli alive and lying broken across the way of an entire dead garden. He saw dead birds flying through an air that cared less for the living, and dead flowers burst into bloom and the decay of an open sky. The dead grass grows forever, but Samuel remembered lightning alive in the sky with a flash, and saw the living lightning scars of Eli shine with just the same colour as the fading clouds. Night fell upon Samuel as he bent over Eli’s broken bones, and the wide-eyed stars stretched across a black lake above him like the silver spark of distant water. Samuel sat in a silence unlike any other he’d sat in before. He dripped into the mud of the earth which to him once seemed boundless with affirmation, and found only incomprehension and confusion. Having no more than this lack of understanding as his guide Samuel wondered at the truth of those around him.

 

 

 

 

 

9. Other Animals of the Garden.

 

Birds wings cut flat through the air like the sturdy strokes of a quill, butterflies fly with a seeming inaccuracy, like a scribbling pen on a page, what pictures they’re tracing into an unseen natures meaning. Both above and below and deep amongst the green of Samuel’s leaves they draw out from the centre of his stubborn strength. From the constant stupidity of his wooden wisdom tall and bound to the earth, the thoughts of flying creatures take to the air. From insects so small they have never been seen, to the poisonous colours of wasps and countless others so thick and bright to the eye they appear to scream outward and into the very sun that shapes them.

Having Samuel to reside in, and having Samuel to protect them, they seek no roots upon the earth. So shallow and meaningless they seem to the deeply held roots of trees, but still amongst those same roots, below the compost and deep in the dark beneath the world of worms lies a myriad of colourful sleeping insects, waiting for the summer to draw them up into the sky, and in the sudden sun the vividness of their reality fills the spectrum of the atmosphere, as they play in the light of the life they’ve been given. Samuel tried his best to understand these creatures, but they come across so quick and meaningless to the slow stubbornness and proud stupidity of the trees, the home of flying birds and insects.

Across the air the silence and stillness of Samuel stretches, as though knowledge were something beyond him, something he left faded and blurring with the falling rain a long time ago. Across the fences of human boundaries in the land of faraway business, people lived lives like children throwing stones in a peaceful pond. The sound of heavy hammers and alarm bells rippled across the surface of weed-ridden houses, in harmony with streetwise birds stealing breadcrumbs from the sidewalk. Drug induced cars revved loud behind the expectations of speaker stereos filled with the sound of music, the sound of human passion across the bursting bubble of the exploding universe. Louder than the silence of Samuel, the sound of a speeding car through the dark beneath the streetlight, the whining howl of a police car siren sounding over the tops of the fenced off garden, spilling into the ears of a black dog faded grey as the wooden fences that blessed its boundaries, a lonely cry amongst the monopoly of noises. The old dog cocked up its head and howled with the siren, faraway dogs followed, and howling filled the air. A mess of dog sounds running free for thirty seconds, the siren giving way to the distance, then the silence of Samuel melting to the sounds of heavy hammers and traffic in the land of faraway business.

 

 

 

 

 

10. The Visions of Birds and the Visions of a Tree.

 

So un-tree like Samuel seemed with all his faithless wandering in thought, and intelligent consideration of the nature of those around him.

Finding nothing that would give him peace from among the peaceful creatures, he turned his thoughts against the fibre of his being and into the storms own truth, and in the midst of what wisdom was perceived through the destruction he felt he was following and understanding a sense of Eli, though in spirit there was no similarity between the two, and Samuel in his own fallen form of wandering was following different paths completely to the love and curiosity that bore Eli into other worlds.

A common sparrow throughout the night perched upon one of Samuel’s branches and whispered a song to the tree about the visions of birds, that a single leaf of Eli’s was never seen to touch the earth, a leaf that flew fleeting as the storm into the sun, and can only be said to die through speculation. Samuel’s leaves rustled with the news as though the core of their being had been lit up and struck suddenly open upon the world. Despite the calm cool of the windless night and relative stillness of their surroundings many of them wished to fly away and follow the song into the night sky, however dark and sunless. The sparrow took to the air still singing and the leaves manic spirits shook further with newfound revelation. A quick whirlwind came and stirred through the grass, lifting the lost and fallen leaves of the ground into the air once more. Samuel looked out through the confusion of the speeding wind and tumultuous dead leaves flying as though in awe of an impressive power. Never had leaves taken on such life before, spinning like a chorus of bird wings through the air. The complexity of visions that came before the tree were amazing; the sky seemed to turn with the movement of each single leaf, and the moonlight changed its course with each flying green edge. All throughout the darkness of night whilst Samuel searched for meaning the dead leaves circled over and around him, twisting apparitions of foresight into the sky, and blocking the peaceful stars from view with the passion of their movement. Much of what Samuel saw appeared to him as insanity, though at the same time fluid and filled with such motion that always called for deeper comprehension. With every picture passing instantaneously before him came a description so powerful and fresh that it seemed the worlds own words were talking to him. Samuel was ready and willing to throw his leaves up into the air, and to darken the sky further in the grandest hope of finally attaining the sun. But when the morning came and the actual sun shone down, Samuel looked plainly before him and saw the bones of dead Eli nestled comfortably in the ground, and this became his inspiration;

 

That the moving visions of the sky can hold no secrets of the sun, and are only the truth of cloud and storm.

No bird that can fly knows the nature of the wind, though the shadow of wings is cast over the earth, the wind cannot sweep away the sun, and the birds cannot live in darkness.

 

This wisdom, or inspiration was nothing new to Samuel, it was the faith of trees restated, though it appeared to him fresh and revealing, and the newness of form with which it carried itself made him grow. Samuel’s old stubbornness returned, and he rose again even as trees are today with their faith. Upwards into the world above where dead leaves once flew, now living leaves fixed and sprouting from the blood of his branches covered the sky. And the rising birds circled the growing sun, singing like black specks curved to its lure. Those leaves who listened were caught between the silence of tree faith from which they were born and their own impatient desire to reach the state of Eli, whose ascension to the sun was told to them through the song of the birds and was carried away with the wind. Even now Samuel’s leaves were twitching as the sunlight grew more intense around them. They took new meaning in the richness of their colour, and played with the edges of the sky toward where the sparrow had vanished from sight. They held a hunger for movement, and possessed a vibrancy that was beyond the realm of trees. Samuel felt he had to address the leaves as a whole.

 

 

 

“None can listen to the birds in their thoughtless flight and still give full credence to my wisdom, the very same wisdom which creates you.

You believe the sky is your salvation, yet it rises above you endlessly, I say the sky cannot be reached but through the grounds of the earth and the power of unseen roots.

The wind can be heard with every turn of breath, but my words are silent so that they cannot be heard throughout the world, yet still my wisdom rings true.

The birds know nothing of silence, and the songs they sing fail to touch upon the silence of your home, it is the silence which is growing despite whatever else you may hear, and only silence is synonymous with the sun’.

 

This wisdom did not come to the leaves in the form of words as written above, and translation is lost when they are spoken aloud. But in the silence of reality it moved through their blood, and it came in such a way that transcendence and ascension were mere illusions to be overcome. So that in following this knowledge leaves could accept their place within tree society and be lifted through the power of Samuel alone, though the temptation of the birds is always present and always shall be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

11. The Prevalence of Tree Wisdom.

 

After Samuel’s wisdom was spread out again silent through his leaves, and the resurgence of his faith made them dumb to the song of birds, the wind blew easy over the outskirts of their existence as they embraced the regrowth of tree society. Amidst the harmony of Samuel’s canopy not a single leaf could develop the joy of passion to rebel and rise with the birds against the silence. So that as the leaves clung tightly in bunches to Samuel’s branches for fear of losing their sustenance they blocked out the sun from the world below, and the greatness of Samuel’s shadow came up rising over the garden, the depths of which only imagination can tell; even covering up the dead remnants of Eli’s ascension laying rotted as a wooden stump beneath Samuel’s Heights.

Any reminiscence amongst leaves about the old storm was as vague and obscure as the forgotten meaning of birdsong, though the singing of a mystery was still heard above them which touched their fragile hearts cool as an uplifting breeze. Still Samuel kept all of the leaves together, bound in body to his branches and the birthright of his silence, and be it through sadness or joy, or weakness or strength, or if even just through the plain old curiosity of intelligence a single leaf let go and flew toward the secrets which silence kept them from, they were seen to be fallen. The remaining leaves needed only to look beneath them at the shadow and they were afraid to follow. So it was that the darkness of the roots, and the stubborn strength of the trunk; the stupid wisdom of tree faith prevailed. Throughout all of tree society the bird’s song from above became an insanity to follow, and to the leaves their music became death; the meaning of a lost life which fell beneath them into the darkness of our world. As we look up to the sky we can never know the full extent of longing which leaves feel for the sun, so why they fall amongst us into the shadow is a mystery of life dimly perceived by the living. Yet although the true nature of leaves is largely unknown to us, still they fall constantly into our own reality, and down forever to the earth they dissolve into our being.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

any feedback is welcome.