Ever since I was torn from my osier bed my path has been that of tears, my lush green beauty began to fade into crust. The land which received my tender frame was hard and being brittle was tossed mercilessly by the wind. A vagabond I am on land and on water pushed ever further from my native home.
The wind is flushing again to carry this frail vessel of mine to and fro without any known destination. Once anchored to my mother’s trunk who stood beautifully by the lake; now I lay by rubble stones who burst my breast while I try to give vent of sighs, to express the pang of my yearning for home.
He who abide far away is ever longing for the day he will return, he who left his lover long_ prepare for her warm embrace when returned. My wailing is subtle few can hear_ the majority trample on my sorrow and ignore my pain. As a weanling child separated from the supple breast despair, so my heart long for the nourishment of the tree.
When leaves are knotted together in harmony of the trunk there are no secret pain held in the heart. My secrets are known from my plaintive notes, they manifest to the keen eye and ear. Separation is a mixture of sacrifice and grief. The story is well known but few see in me the allegory of Body and Soul.
Bees travel distant miles to gather nectar for honey, browsing through numberless flower to take the ingredient. The juvenile monkey in search for fruits, finding an unripe kola goes away in disappointment. Birds not fitted with gills soon tire under water, but the fish so fitted make incomprehensible depth home.
How long will you be captive to pleasure and ease when I who rested on an osier bed was evicted from home. How long will you hang unto vain affectation when the world is filled with endless horizons that even though eyes are strained cannot locate the closing sky.
The life of the covetous is never peaceful and I am reconciled with my fate. Many flee from one danger to meet worse. They flee from a snake only to stand faced with a dragon. Carefully plotting stratagem that will someday ensnare them, they shut the door after an enemy to find another inside their house.
I am the last remnant of my kind whom the autumn cast away in September. The golden sunlight have taken away my vapor as I count time in separation from the tree. If Nature’s wish is to float me on the wind to spend unusual time on land and sea, again and again I am at her command until my decay into the earth.
Pangs of separation spread throughout the world, we all must someday press our hands on our hearts and say goodbye to things loved. Body lament in the world upon separation from Soul to experience poverty and grief until the hour of reunion. This journey began in chaos and has ended upon the virgin soil of solitude awakening me to something new!
Every fall of mine was like the harp played with delicacy and joyful music spread from leaf to leaf at my departure. My sorrow and grief were unfounded for never was I cut off from the tree. I remained part of the tree even at the parting. Let all strain of sorrow be mingled with joy at last, the joy that make a tree overflow with excess leaves.