The tree of life will always thirst for knowledge. Its tender roots drink from the secrets of old earth, a timeless fable etched in the history of each growing ring. Her leaves shall bear fruit, and within each fruit an infant seed shall sleep, each waiting for its chance to nourish the sky.
The soft wind shall lift her delicate skirt, a gentle applause rustling in summer heat, the pitter-patter of spring rain, the vibrant slumber of dawn. A hungry bird shall leave her quiet nest. Taking flight, she circles for the worm. Her lonely egg splatters upon rocks below, doomed forever in the natural game of gravity and misfortune.
Someday the fire will come, a roaring inferno ignited from tinder. A swift strike of lightning, fatal energy and the rich scent of black. Rabbits will run, foxes will scurry, and thick smoke will strangle the heavenly blue. In the end, nothing will remain. The ancient tree of life shall perish, a hulking shadow in her crooked memory. Her branches will be ash, her trunk but a withering corpse of yesterday.
A silent ray emerges. The sun has returned to claim its majesty. Mama bird weeps for the world she has lost. A solitary seed falls from her breast. Once again Mother Nature's secret is reborn, a new tree of life destined to reach for the years of tomorrow.