A Tale of The Tree in The Garden
And here I am…
To tell you a story
To revise the story of creation.
No beginning nor end.
Animate and inanimate, humanoid, carnivorous and predators, grazing beasts and birds, rodents and insects alongside air, fire water and earth, are all gathered, lining up:
Awaiting a potion called ” consciousness”.
There is a giant old tree,
Located at the courtyard of the mastermind’s palace,
It’s full of decorations and ornaments,
All made by the magic potion.
Each creature, enters the garden, takes its turn, and creates something during their blessed time.
Whereby they learn ugly and beauty,
Grief and joy.
Some become amused and some overwhelmed.
Some want to explore while some befriend sloth.
Some use a knife to carve their name while they are unaware by doing which
only making their art on the sand at the beach.
Some sink in the ponder and some never stop the wander.
Some discover debauchery and some are stuffed with gluttony.
There are big ornaments and some tiny ones too.
Once the time is up, a big gate opens up.
Mostly exit the door on foot, some are dragged and some are forced.
And when they pass the gate,
They become who they were before if they used their time in the garden, wisely and if they did not, they’ll get a downgrade.
Even though there is no ugly creation, it will be a punishment to become ugly after learning about beauties. [A cockroach is not ugly unless it learns the fascinating story of a butterfly.]
If it was a flame, it’s back to its burning life whereas after the exit from the conscious life, it knows what a burning feels.
If it was a bird and started singing again it knows what the love song means.
I call it the locked-in syndrome of Life.
I was sitting in front of a swirling breeze, it knew my pain whereby it was sensing it before during its life in the garden but it couldn’t tell me a word.
But this is not the destiny of everyone. There are one or two who at the end of their show, won’t exit the main gate. They, those who didn’t create any ornaments nor carved their names, those who observed and became- became a melody or a simple note, will be invited to the mansion whereby the composer is creating the music.
The air is full of floating, dancing notes, whereby the light is vibrating.
When I am writing and talking to you, it means I am in the garden. Two brackets …[ . ]… in the middle of two infinities. no beginning nor end.
I exist hence I matter. We all do. Existence is not only inside the garden. The garden is only an opportunity to experience and to become, maybe part of a masterpiece.
This is our only shot, before going back to animate or inanimate life of our past.
Mine was fire and earth, water and air.
My heart is fire, and my head is the air, my arms embrace the oceans and my soul is a fertile soil.
My hope is to find you or you find me, when you save me and I save us. I know, the melody we make will tremble any heart, we will become an indispensable note whereby no symphony holds without including us, that’s when the absolute existence, the mastermind, smiles.
And here I am…
Told you a tale, wait… No, I didn’t. I am only an inspiration for many tales to come.
I know we matter if we exist.
And that is why.
And
Rymos
13/12/2024