by Eric (Sword) Beaty

Created on: November 10, 2008

Seasons: A Time for Change

Out in the midst of a long forgotten field

peppered with fallen leaves

turned black from the chilling breath of nature

stands a lone tree.

It no longer serves to give shade;

it's limbs empty of life and color;

the sun no longer its companion.

It's only service now is a reminder

of how cold and desolate life alone can be.

The wind has been cruel

to this tree.

Once a towering majesty

clothed with the splendor

of evergreen.

Now bare and naked it stands,

no signature of beauty

anywhere.

A solitary raven glides to land

on its wide-spread branches.

An ornament that adds no value

or appeal but rather

gives an even more sense of void.

As if a black hole would

be brighter and more homely

than the tree in which it now perches.

A chilling wind sweeps past me

and on toward the vast, black field.

The dead and dying leaves

are carried away;

never to return.

They are scattered;

snatched away

from the tree a mother

now deprived

of her children.

The raven caws in mock amusement

raises its wings,

and is carried away also,

laughing to spite.

Though alone, the tree stands tall.

I wonder to myself,

"Why continue to stand?

Why not let the wind

knock you down

and be done with it all?

You are deprived of beauty,

company,

and warmth,

yet you still persist."

Then a smaller, quieter voice

than my own as if

from the tree itself

speaks to me.

"I stand because I know

the truth.

I know that though

I am not handsome

to look on at present,

Spring will come

as it always has.

"I know that though

bitter cold chills my branches

and even my very roots,

Summer will come

as it always has.

"I know that though

my companions have

all been blown away,

Autumn will bring them back

as it always has.

"And I know that though

I must endure the

frost of morning and the

cold of night,

Winter will bring the

pure-white snow

to clothe me

as it always has.

I am silenced at these thoughts

whether from my own mind

or the tree itself

I do not know;

I am speechless

no matter what the source.

Must we all be cursed

to regard life

as the raven,

a constant spiteful

malice at its heart?

Must life be as cruesl

as the wind,

stealing away the things

we hold most dear?

What if we all

were like the tree;

stripped of everything

yet standing proud;

able to shake off the

abuse of

spiteful passers by?

What if we considered

the seasons,

the changes in life,

as part of life itself?

Would we enjoy

this gift much more?

Or do we continue

to let the spirit

of discouragement

feed off the

bitter-sweet nectar

that is our

deepest,

darkest

doubts and fears...

as it always has?

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