Nights are my favourite! Something magical unfolds. It is the dark, mesmerizing quiet that gets you thinking, Your emotions are heightened, your mind is at peace. It is away from all the early morning noise. It is soaking in the blissful silence and churning out words. I make it a point to write each night and night alone. The whole world is sleeping and I am only waking up.
I am no professional writer, but I hope to be one someday!
In this vast expanse of the dry desert I stand there, alone. The scorching sun does little to me, my aged skin is used the harshest of weathers, I have seen the best and the worst and the very worst. I am the lone standing tree of Tenere. My tale is an interesting one, I was once a part of large expanse that was once a forest. Slowly my clan began to fade away, a few old ones died first and the young ones followed, a few neighborhood shrubs to keep me company but they left too. For years I have been looking for my kind and none I find, not one. I see nothing but the brutal brown sand and the blistering yellow sun that challenges me each day.
It takes courage to withstand these brutal inhuman conditions and yet I continue to live on, reaching out deep within, my roots try hard, they work hard, they try to keep me alive. For I am of the belief that you don't die when your body gives up, you really die when you give up your will to live. After that, dying is an organic process of decay. I reach deep within myself to find a little quiet, I have seen my own go away, some glorious individuals who went far before their time. It leads me to a logical conclusion, all that we think is permanent really isn't.
I know I sound depressing and I am, to be tied down by my limitations, to be subjected to tough conditions, to gather the will to wake up are all a part of this constant battle. But some days there is cheer, people talk around me, they look at me for inspiration lost travelers think of me a a beacon. I mark the spot for few. I give them hope they say. Many years ago, they said I am a testament of survival. People seemed to drink from my pool of wisdom also drink from the near by well that was dug up to help support people braving the hot desert sun.
And I listened to their conversation, their talk was listless at times, sometimes there was a bit of glee after that splash of water. Nothing mattered then, it was just them and the need for water, all of the worlds riches meant nothing.
And then, today. I got hit. Most likely by a drunk man , imagine the odds a drunken truck driver who happens to hit me, me, when there is not a single tree for 400 Kms. But he was to hit me, may be because i was secretly asking for it. It gets torturous you know, to be brimming with positivity and looking forward to the next day. Now here I am, lying on my sandy grave for the last few hours before the sun takes full control and sets me free. A singular grave stone will mark my spot and I will forever be a memory. It is a few hours before morning and I thought I must tell you that this tale.
PS :This story is based on a real fact, http://www.damninteresting.com/the-lonely-tree-of-tenere/
I hope you enjoy reading this post as much as I enjoyed writing it!