- Vik

A tall tree, the branches softly moving
in the wind.
Old as the world itself it looks.
The bark covered with scars, telling tales
of lifes long past.
Does he dream?

The bright sun of a new day touches the few leaves,
the forest awakens.
The tree is now moving to the sound of a music
only he can hear.

Voices approaching – tiny, young, like birdsong in spring.
He opens his eyes. The sparkling of a green light within
betrays the years.

It is time