The following is a chapter from my book... Tales of the Spirits of the lantern.

The objective here.. is to understand that we should NEVER assume that someone cant or wont help us. If we approach everything with anger ... as I do... too many times.... there WILL be consequences... there always are... this chapter from my book that I wrote a few years ago... intimates.... that there is a right and wrong way to approach anything.

The Weeping Tree

From beyond the mountains and the lake;

The jungle path to wander at will;

The Tiger had come to the great red desert.

All had scattered to the winds and the plains

To escape the great roaring spirit of fire.

The trees of the slopes and the jungle path

no longer sand their songs.

Their blackened arms reached up to the heat

Of the evening sun.

The cold days of the tears of ice would come soon again;

And the tiger was compelled to keep moving

In search of shelter on this endless plain.

It was in this place�?far from the mountains

On this magnificent yet endless plain;

That the tiger came upon the Weeping Tree.

"Who are you oh sentenal so old", the Tiger cried out.

"Come from the shadow of evening old tree and tell me your name!

Bring me the shredded waste of your leaf that heralds winter’s wrath

That I my lie on a bed of calm rest this night!"

The old tree rustled, despite the obvious absence of the wind

and called out to the tiger.

" I am told of your coming, great beast of the forest path.

Why do you ask of comfort from me, as I am of thin leaf and of little comfort

to the likes of you!"

The tiger was angered now.

"Who are you that you refuse me comfort old tree!

Your leaves fall about you; your branches almost bare!

The bed of leaves is mine to have at will!"

"Do not curse at me great arrogant beast " the tree retorted with a menacing calm,

"for you are an infant in my lifetime."

" I have survived many floods and fires, and have seen many generations of bird, mammal and reptile. Some have sort in my branches; others at my trunk; and have made their homes inside me.

Even water is my companion, in the cold moist dawn,

the misty evenings,

the summer rains;

the veil of fog,

and in the winter; the snow and tears of ice.

My roots have tapped the waters of rivers and have drawn much to me in the years gone by. And I harbor ill grace to none around me."

"You are a weeping tree!", the tiger snorted insensitively.

"Your branches hang low as if they weep; for the great hunter of the sky each winter strips you of your sheltering coat that you may shiver and clatter so noisily in the breath of winter. Your branches bared, you weep the tears of ice that fall about us all; while others not of your kind keep there sheltering coat.

"I know of your companions," the tiger continued breathlessly, "many years ago all the trees had their sheltering coat and then one time of the cold, you would not give shelter to the great hunter of the sky, and She became angry at you, and cursed you and your kind to shiver and clatter each year in the time of the snow. So that from that time forward each year you would be forced to give shelter to the likes of me, and know of the loneliness the great hunter felt without protection from the icy breath of the white time.

" I curse you, great weeping tree!"

The tigers rage was now his tears across his yellow eyes.

The spirits have risen against me as well old tree! They have taken from my side, the eagle, and dashed to the ground as you did the great hunter, the owl that I came upon that day long ago now. While you and your kind wailed and whistled your songs I had barely enough leaf to cover my friend the old owl! So I curse you old tree. I tear at your uncaring trunk with my claws; for you and the horrid spirit of fire have taken from me all that I loved, and have banished me to this merciless red desert!

His chest heaving from his pent up rage the tiger tore savagely at the tree, ripping the bark and breaking his claws in his attempt to satisfy his frustration and loneliness.

The tree did not answer the tiger anymore. A sullen silence had come to the old branches and they began to sway in a wind that was cold and chilling;

As this was early for the breath of the spirits of pale winter’s light.

The tiger drew back from the tree and his eyes blazed at it’s indifferent stance.

The wind became stronger now, whilst the tiger huddled miserably about the great trunk. The comforting coat of leaves he longed for began to dance around him; dashing at him and stinging his face.

As night fell across the desert the huge tree began to sing a song that reached right into the tiger’s soul.

A waxing moon was dull in the shadow of night, and even the stars seemed to pale in the dust of the wind as it’s icy breath whipped about the tormented tiger.

And he cursed this horrid place again.

As the curtain of sleep finally lay itself over the tiger he thought for an instant that the tree had called out to him again.

But it made no sense at all, and he dismissed it as another demon spirit of this cold barren place.

"Sleep well, and dream infant tiger," the tree rumbled.

And in his fitful sleep the tiger felt fear, and doubt creep into his heart.

"Sleep well" the old tree the old tree murmured again, " for I command as much as I shelter. You have cursed me and the pain you give me, will return three fold.

For after this night, magnificent beast, you will awaken to the morning sun stripped of more than the days of your past reign.

You will be laid bare great tiger, and there will no longer be mercy from the land; from the morrow and beyond."

DW ( DreamWeaver ) copyright 2001