Heartwood

There was once a seed which fell into a patch of charred earth.

And in due time, the waters flowed and the seedling sprouted, searching for light.

The sun shone on him, and the rain and earth nourished him,

and his Spirit grew strong as the years passed.



But in his strength there was also a loneliness,

for he was set apart, on a hill to himself.

The loneliness twisted his strength and he grew crookedly.

The place where his heart should have been became an empty hole.



Then some years later, a passing bird of great beauty lit on his branch.

As if by design, the bird dropped another seed, and she began to grow.

She was warmed by the morning sun, but her days were spent in shadows.

Always upward she looked, reaching for the elusive sunlight on her face.


But there was little sunlight to be had, and she grew weak.

And the elder tree knew not of her,

for his days were spent ever watching the horizon to ease his loneliness.



By some unknown fate, or by chance

(For one of Earth knows not these things)

her root grew into his. He gave her of his sunlight as she eased his loneliness.

They grew entwined, and the storms of life blew.



As she grew, reaching towards the sky, there was no place to go

but through where the elder tree's heart should have been.

Through the one tree, the other was made strong,

for his heart was no longer empty.

And when the winds blew, she could not be moved,

for she leaned upon him.



Time is a most unusual creature, for it holds both promise and death,

hope and despair,

love and forgetfullness.



In time, a great storm arose, and lightning struck mightily.

They both were shaken, but the current flowed straight through his core.

But he took the brunt, and only his branches were burned.



As his leaves fell away, he reached to her for strength

for his roots were dry and burned,

but she was mesmerized by the full shining sun.

Her leaves grew thick, and her branches reached for the very sky itself.

And for a time he lived in her shadow,

without light or water.


But none can contend with that darkness forever.

Without water he became dry and no longer tried to live.

Yet, when the cold wind blows his branches still seem to whisper,

"You are my Heart."



Then from out of the sunlight of spring came a bird of unparalelled beauty,

which lit on her branch and there made her nest.

And in return for shelter, carried her seed upon the wind . . .




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