The Singing Tree
Long ago, somewhere over the edge of the world, there stood a magnificent forest that spread as far as the eye could see. This forest was unlike any other, for it contained all the trees that there have ever been. Stout bushes brimming with heart shaped leaves flowered in a brilliant array of blues, and pinks, and yellows; mighty gums reached as high as the clouds; and a canopy of thick branches hung overhead like a vast emerald crown. For the longest time the forest and the creatures within thrived, and all was right with the world.
One fateful day, a newcomer came to the edge of the forest, looking upon it with interest. The creatures of the forest watched curiosly, as the newcomer was unlike any other that had come before.
Some days later, the newcomer was joined by others. They arrived with several horse-drawn carts, carrying shining silver axes and terrible serrated blades. The creatures of the forest watched in fascination as these tools of destruction were methodically put to use, gathering resources for wooden structures the newcomers referred to as houses. When the first structure was complete, they built another, then another, cutting down more trees as they went until they had carved an unnatural gap in the bountiful forest.
The creatures of the land tried desperately to reason with the newcomers, who ignored their plea and continued day by day, to cut away more of the forest and build their houses.
One year on, the small collection of houses had grown into a bustling village whose size rivalled that of the once-magnificent forest. Each morning, the villagers would take their carts to the edge of the forest and cut down more trees, feeding their endless lust for destruction and their growing need for resources.
On one such morning, as the villagers worked their way into the deepest part of the forest, they came across a clearing, at the centre of which stood a solitary tree unlike any other. Its bark was ghostly white and its leaves were gilded silver. As tall as it was wide, the tree was a sight to behold for villagers and forest creatures alike. When the wind blew through its branches, the tree seemed to sing, its voice both haunting and enchanting.
Awestruck by the majesty of the singing tree, the villagers halted their axes. Instead, they gathered around the ancient trunk and listened to the beautiful melody the tree produced.
The creatures of the land watched with curiosity and wariness. Drawn too by the tree’s ethereal melody, they hesitantly joined the villagers around the ancient trunk. For many days and nights to follow, the villagers and the creatures lived with a newfound sense of peace and happiness. Each morning, as the sun illuminated the silvery leaves and the fresh morning air blew through the tallest branches, they would gather around the ancient trunk and sing.
–
In the heart of the forest, were sun is rarely seen,
Stands a tree, ghostly white with shining silver leaves.
Listen close and you might hear something on the wind,
Because my friend, what you have found is the singing tree.
Oh singing tree, oh singing tree,
Let your voice carry me,
Carry me, through the forest on echoed melody.
Oh singing tree, oh singing tree,
Voice so wild and free,
Follow me, oh follow me, to the singing tree.
Sun and sky stand witness to your heartfelt song,
Creatures of the forest and we all do sing along.
With voices clear and a patient ear,
We listen to your voice, so wise and strong.
Oh singing tree, oh singing tree,
Let your voice carry me,
Carry me, through the forest on echoed melody.
Oh singing tree, oh singing tree,
Voice so wild and free,
Follow me, oh follow me, to the singing tree.
So, if you hear the forest sing a haunting little tune,
Do not fear, the tree is near, letting out a croon.
And in that song that sounds in heartfelt lullaby,
Will be the secrets of the forest, sung only for you.
–
One morning, when the creatures gathered to hear the song of the ancient tree, they noticed a branch was missing, cut clean from the ghostly trunk. Its absence leaving a void in the ancient tree's melody. Confused and desperate to understand what had happened, the creatures went to the village to see if they knew what had befallen the tree they loved so dearly.
They came across a large gathering of villagers, their expressions a mix of excitement and curiosity. The creatures joined the crowd to see what had captured their interest. In the centre of the gathering stood a villager holding high an instrument of ghostly white wood, hollowed out and coiled with fine wire. The villager raised a hand and the crowd fell to silence, their eyes fixed on the instrument. When the musician ran their hands over the strings an ethereal sound echoed through the village square, mirroring the song of the ancient tree. The villagers erupted in applause and cheers as the creature's hearts sank.
Over the coming days, the villagers returned to the singing tree, this time with their carts. They chopped, trimmed, cut and carved until the ancient tree would sing no more. All that remained of the singing tree was a ghostly stump; a silent witness to the horrors of greed, its song forever lost.
The forest creatures could only watch. The peace they thought they had found was lost, and their efforts to reason with the villagers proved useless. Day by day, more and more trees were lost as the villagers returned to their destructive behaviour; and at night the village came alive with a rapturous melody from a band of ghostly white instruments, singing in the song of the forest.