Tree Of Life

A solitary woman stands vigil over a moonlit valley, her flowing silhouette backlit by starfire. Far below rests an effulgent tree ablaze with inner radiance, its gnarled trunk and sprawling canopy awash in opalescent auroras. Pulsing roots drink from a subterranean river sourced outside causal time, while verdant boughs harvest celestial dew. This mystic arbor tree tends and nurtures all realms as a nurturer fluent in spiritual sustenance. Its fruit awakens cellular memory of humanity’s divine lineage, dissolved over grim epochs of density and forgetting. To partake of its subsystem is to shed profane vestments – to emerge renewed in consecrated flesh.

As an immortal guardian, it holds records of bygone golden ages when peace reigned. Though civilisations crumble and arrogant empires turn to dust, the Tree of Life remains unperturbed by mortal trifles. Neither flood nor inferno can destroy its inviolate beauty or sap the sweetness of its oxygenating fruit. Sheltering in its shade, jaded souls rediscover innocence and wonder long exiled. Its steadfast presence serves as an immortal wellspring from which weary travellers drink to regain vitality for the journey ahead. No sincere seeker passes unrefreshed once kneeling in supplication before this divine font. Natives feel a resonant kinship with its stoic resilience through storms of devastating change.

The verdancy of its branches channels the Edenic grace at the root of mortal experience – before the illusion of separation spawned trauma’s contagion. Bathed in viridescent rays, psychic immunity strengthens while toxic encrustations fall away. Inner eyes blink open for the first time, awakening holy vision blurred through seasons of heavy slumber. “Awaken”, it whispers in hushed tones.

In its consecrated company, dross alchemizes into gold – earthly lead receiving a baptism of celestial fire then cooling into nobility. Wilderness souls find long sought sanctuary from profane cacophony that plagued overstimulated senses. No impurity can endure in this hallowed grove. The restless glean respite, wanderers gain stable root as stars descend to walk again with men. We stand united and whole – mind, body and soul.