The Desert Tree

When life teaches you something, you feel a step ahead in our vast enormous journey of life a pilgrimage we take to heaven for the soul purpose of the pilgrimage and not the destination.

In my dreams I came across a tree at the outskirts of a desert. A Tree filled with flowers and dark green leaves. Around it, nothing but the wind and sand and maybe a few ruins of a town ambushed by a group of people desperate for supplies to feed their family. The tree stood valiantly. It swayed a little in the breeze and its fragrance was sent even to the village nearby.
At a humble desert home. A boy playing next to his grandfather with a small seed sat to listen to his words of wisdom, "A tree is scarce in a desert and its soul is far greater than others as it stands in the heat to give you shelter, it cannot find water so it digs deeper to find it rather than give up and die. In a barren land it brings about beauty of nature. It expects nothing in return yet it gives so much using the little it gets. It stays a pointing star to people who lose their peace."
" Gran papa, Would I grow up like a tree in the desert?"
" That is up to your decisions, son. Do you want to be as powerful as the tree in the desert?"
"There is nothing I would rather want more"

The child swells up to see his grandfather's pleased expressions and runs out with a new joy. A joy of being one step ahead of the other children. He gathers the other children from his neighborhood. They sit down by the light of the campfire. He glances occasional at his grandfather across the flames with his group of friends. Exchanges a sudden soft grin and gets back to telling his friends how he wanted to grow the seed to see a big tree and grow to be like it by the time it flowers.
The moonlight shines on a few dark figures behind the large stones that surround the small settlement. A group of hungry thieves find their hungry minds in desperation to raid the settlement. They creep up to the top of the boulder and wait for a good moment. The hookahs and wine have started getting onto the small crowd. Their weapons sheathed by the side. An opportune moment.
A scream turns the attention of all to the boulder. The moon is covered partially by the figures of several bandits. The brave men run for the weapons while the bandits charge. The women screaming and picking their children run into their homes to lock the doors.
The boy sees bloodshed around him. Bandits running after the men with their swords slitting their throats apart. Some loot the food cabins. Bandits holding peoples hands gathering them to slaughter. The boy hides behind the flames praying for peace. He digs in the seed and remembers his grandfathers words. " A tree cannot find water so it digs deeper to find it rather than give up and die. He prays for peace and prays for the souls of the bandits as well as his family and kin. Tears streaming down his cheeks like streams of sorrow. He cries seeing his grandfathers eyes dazed out by death. He has nothing he can do but cry and pray. He is still unseen as he lies down beside his family crying silently.
By light of dawn next morning a bandit finds him still crying and pulls him to the others. Swords are unsheathed and the boy kneels crying, no revenge, no plea for mercy, no expectations, just praying for their shelter and his last thoughts were to be like the desert tree. Powerful in thought and action.
The tree now stands there in the memory of all those who died that night and the boy who gave hope to a seed in the desert to grow more powerful than most other trees, to spread a nostalgic fragrance to all those who survived. To stand a memory and never leave the boys home.