It had existed for over 2,000 years before writing.
He always offered physical food and spiritual comfort,
For all who under it rested.
The music of his leaves in the wind,
The fragrance of its leaves and fruits.
Until one day…
They cut it,
They dragged her.
And in that abduction he dropped his seeds,
His leaves covered the path
On a soft green carpet.
She screamed and no one heard.
They industrialized it.
And in the process,
They turned it into thin, white, empty leaves.
Meanwhile, its new leaves,
They found the hands of a thinker,
With a giant soul and a sensitive heart.
Through his extraordinary writing,
Filled his new thin, white and empty leaves,
With a myrific sequence of words.
Who continue to devote spiritual food and mental comfort,
To everyone who reads your new leaves.
A beautiful perpetual and intimate cycle.
©Amarela
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