The lone tree

The lone tree knows, that he is alone on the barren hill. He knows that on his mound he is both ruler and subject.

The lone tree never fears lightning or the dry December sun. He sucks his water from the rough clump of rocks and harnesses the clouds before they even arise from the horizon. He has learnt with time that dew would be enough to get him intoxicated for the day and give him the strength to shake away the blizzards and the tough winds. The lone tree knows no other birds but eagles and vultures. Just like them he knows how to survive, and he knows the best way is by being at the top. He knows there he won’t jostle for water with anybody or quarrel over resources. He has the whole hill to himself, to command and to request, to rule and to conquer. He has decided not to cast his seeds to the steep earth below, but to withhold them lest he is forced to give up his whole life to a bunch of saplings who will ultimately push him off his mound.

But the lone tree, with all his power, has he ever known joy? With all the influence and abundance, has he known what it is like to smile and laugh with other people? Has he known how it is to live in a world with somebody to care for? What has the lone tree learnt, apart from violence and anarchy? Of what importance is he when the only haven he can provide is that of death and destruction? The lone tree has known how to live, but has he known how to be alive? With his all big and mighty persona, does he know how to be meek and small sometimes? The lone tree bottles his emotions because he doesn’t want to be seen as weak, does he know it is okay to yield every once in a while? The lone tree believes he has conquered the world, little does he know he is lost to the world, only the dry hill and the soggy clouds know he exists.