And the pine spoke,

Of the blowing of the wind,

Of the seeds that come and go,

Of the sprouting of the seeds,

Of the falling of the leaves.

Of the birds that nested,

Of the rain that fell,

Of the sun that nourished,

Of the earth that holds.

Of the stillness of time,

Of the passing of the seasons,

And its continuation through birth and death.

 

And the pine spoke,

Of no coming,

Of no going,

Of no after,

Of no before,

Of how it had forever been,

And I thanked it deeply for its wisdom.