THE FOREST – A BEDTIME STORY
“Daddy, tell us a story, please, please.”
‘OK, but then lights out.”
There is a place where mighty trees grow. It’s a huge forest, deep and dark. This is a happy forest though, nothing to be afraid of in there. You see, each tree is the essence of a dead warrior. They stand tall and proud. The forest has grown for two hundred and 30 years, but each year, new trees start. Each new tree is greeted with warmth, happiness, and a sense of belonging.
The forest is watered by a cool, clear, pure spring and stream that dances and winds it way through the forest. The spring is made of tears from the family, friend and loved ones that knew the warrior. Yet the water is pure and sweet. That because the water is mixed with the tear of happiness, tears of laughter, tears of the proud, and the tears of goodbyes. The stream is always full, cold, pure and crystal clear.
The stream feeds the trees, and in turn, the trees feed the forest animals. These animals are happy creatures, for they are the spirits of the gold star mothers and wives, the children and fathers, the friends that once cried the tears. Life giving life – a never ending circle of love.
The king of the land of the forest had never cried the tears of love. He used to send his soldiers to collect the fallen, dead branches from the forest. He also liked to hunt the trusting animals there. One day, there weren’t enough fallen branches to feed the kings huge fireplace, so he ordered the people to start cutting down the live trees. The king had a huge fireplace, and it was always burning.
The people didn’t like the cutting of the forest, but the king demanded it. He wanted to be warm and fuzzy. The people told him: the forest is cool in the heat of the day, it feed us with it nuts and berries; it gives us shelter from the storms, and always greets us with a smile.
The king didn’t care – it was all about him. The King didn’t care about the forest; he knew new trees would start – many new trees. He knew the spring would run, full as always, strong and proud.
Yet the people worried. The new trees weren’t fast growing and the forest shrank. The King didn’t care, nor did his advisers. They stayed warm and fuzzy off the trees of old warriors. They waved the flags, and spouted the things that they thought people wanted to hear. They blew the bulges, beat the drums, and then turned away from the people, walking over to their fireplace to get warm and fuzzy again.