The seed did not fall far from the tree.
Nine months later when the new sprout first took a lungful cry, It was
greeted by the warmth of the pleasant shade from its parent.
A deep rooted strong tree, it appeared, giving the new shoot an ideal to
With every growing year, he turned a blind eye to the rotting side of the
depleting force, and the brights of the beaming green was much too powerful, or
may be it was the shades of the youth that eclipsed eyes of the adolescent one.
The young adult now clearly feeding on its parent roots, blossoming into a
It was is turn to seed and now they were a bunch.
The once strong parent living its life and the younger bunch loving it.
A day came when out of the blue the parent fell, catching the bunch off
guard. The grand tree had lived it’s sudden death
The bunch lived.
An old partner stood where the former had once ruled. The frailty of the
surviving partner apparent to the loved one.
Every day the loved one saw what it had not seen for years, the warmth of
the shades that it had once taken for granted threatening to completely vanish.
Every day the loved one, lived in fear of the loss, the one that was lost,
and the one which will not last.
Yet there was it’s own younger self, feeding of it’s root now. Living the
same life as it had once lived. Loved one’s rotting self, completely invisible
to its younger shoot.
The dual life of strong and week, the fear and the strength, the inner child
and the real one, the seeker and the giver.
Yet, the tree learns to live, it lives.