Trees

The difference was striking. One was tall and vibrant,its dome shaped crown blessed with lush green leaves in abundance. The other standing in stark contrast beside it was its exact twin in height and shape but where the other was covered in rich greenery and foliage, this one was threadbare; the few remaining leaves on its branches brown and crisp, a cruel parody of nature.

Where the first was obviously in its prime, the thick emerald foliage and numerous pearly white flowers releasing their thick cloying perfume testament to its vibrancy; the other was bare, its diaphanous web of branches reaching out to the heavens as if in desperate supplication for mercy, the muddy dried leaves pointing earthwards, drooping but not dropping.

Life standing beside death, the manifestation so obvious, it nearly seems surreal. But death and life is a never ending cycle. Unbroken for all time regardless what religions might have one believe. A fact as ancient as the universe.

The wind blows strongly now, the swaying rustling leaves, the waving branches, a hypnotic mesmerising dance and the chorus, a strange yet soothing melody. The dead tree remains as impassive as ever, its immobile silhouette strangely disconcerting against the backdrop of sashaying trees. The leaves barely move, so still they are, it is as if they had been glued there. A statue amongst birds.

To that question, so long ago. You broke your Promise, I broke my Resolve. The branches are akin to our resolve, the leaves our inherent weaknesses but what makes us human, alive. Winds of opportunity and change come, rustle the leaves and our branches of resolve bend and wave to the temptation.

What should I be to you? Human, vibrant and alive, the flawed yet pleasingly natural individual or the dead dry thing, impassive, immobile and indifferent? I stare out.

Oblivious to its surroundings, the skeletal tree stands out still as it always will, bare, dry, dead.