The fruit of a tree

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

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. 🙂

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