The Willow King

They say we have a great king. They say he has won every battle he engaged, and his armies swell with volunteers. The autumn air is bright with thousands of glittering spears and armored men. But after the soldiers marched into a distance which diminished them, I saw a sight others had missed: the king dismounted and walked awkwardly under the willow, fully armored, and sat in its shade. He was still smiling into the willow leaves when courtiers arrived with documents and more armor. "Blessed Willow Tree, " enthused a court poet, "your roots, trunk, leaves, rise skyward, as if you would dissolve your weight and slowly become airborne." We still live in a world of partial happiness. We still live in a world that a great king must protect. We still live in a world where only the rare willow flourishes. But deep under earth, where all waters flow together, where all roots are entangled in one life, where we are all one immense soul, there, there is born Our Life Eternal.