25 September 2012
You breathe in. The beautiful smell of the forest greets you. Green. Growing. Swarming with delicate life balanced in a wisdom you know you'll never posess.
You close my eyes and listen, letting the sounds of the forest engulf you. There's no birdsong, no noises, not this deep into the woods. There's nothing but the sound of the trees as they sway in the wind. Nothing to dirsupt the perfect peace that hangs around.
The trees are your only company. It's beenthat way since you can remember. Only beneath their shade do you feel safe, protected. Only beneath their branches.
You keep going. You don't open you eyes. You don't need to— you remember the way. The small sound of cracking leaves benath your feet is the only disturbance, and yet you try to make your stels lighter, afraid to disrupt the peace of the sleeping willows.
A river runs down your spine. You open your eyes and see a big tree looming in front of you, towering majestically above the rest in infinite wisdom, its branches thick and full of life as they reach out to the world, as if to embrace it. A squirrel rustles by a twig and jumps, disappearing into another oak.
Suddenly you stumble, your foot caught in one of its roots which grow further than any other, grasping the earth as if to hold it in place, to keep it from falling.
You're here.
A smile creeps to your face as you touch the bark of the oak, feeling the crates and valleys that scar the trunk like hard-earned battle scars, full with years of experience. A feeling of respect swells up in you, and you suddenly feel small, insignificant and unimportant beside this colossal giant that has been here since time remembers, a home to many, a sanctuary to you, and your oldest friend.
You know you've spent the happiest times of your life here, noone but yourself and the woods, laying against the moss-covered trunks, trying to climb its endless branches which, you've accepted, have proved untameable. And you can't help but wonder what lies at the very top, at the core of the oak, deep behind the swirling vines and up beyond the branches, and what magnificent secrets would lie there, what treasure could be found, hidden for centuries, unknown to all but Nature. Like it should be.
And you know you'll never know, and your heart has grown old without knowing, your hands, once young and firm have grown weak and wrinkled without reaching the top of the trees, but you smile, again, as you realize, you'll never know.
So you sit down underneath it, put down your cane, and close your eyes, knowing the oak will protect you, give you shade, and maybe, just maybe, if you sit really still, and listen very hard...
Maybe it'll tell you its secrets.
Oak • Opuss № I