Dances With Trees

The unheard-of roar came out of nowhere. It quickly approaches the village. The sky suddenly drowned in tar smoky wind began to blow, and the shadows of darkness raised the trees in the air. The trees float like ships in which evil boils contorted branches grew from their masts. Anchor that is fixed just above the village. The frozen people were waiting for the punishment. A misfortune for no reason. Like any undeserved evil swallows you without chewing, the nightmare invaded the village of the poor. Like a pack of savages that no one controls.

Accompanied by screams gathered from all the pains of the tormented a few dogs barked among the fences. The houses were on their knees under the pressure of a bitter light and people trembled in the most unexpected hiding places.

The writer looked fascinated. This improbable event had surpassed his imagination. He was not afraid, on the contrary, he felt attracted was living this reality torn from a nightmare.

The mysterious forest found a place on a terrible night. It has taken root at the edge of the village. After the inhabitants were amazed for a while, got used to their forest.

Just the writer kept asking complicated questions. He spent more and more time in the woods. Here he discovered that there are no useless things. He learned the skill of combining things with each other and creating something else. The art.

Like two elements that together will react with each other. They will thus generate a reaction from which another element will be born. The essence of life. On the other hand, man does not know what he has to do in this world. This kind of man was born with death in him. An ignoramus.

Born of creation lives with creation but does not perceive it. The man on the other side does not even understand his own thought. Any solitary thought is worthless. The power of any thought lies in its ability to merge with other thoughts. Evolved thought. A small ray of light in which perfection flashes.

Man is constantly changing. It is always something else, without becoming someone else. The magic of pretending.

The writer discovered the cave. The heart of the forest.

Narrow but long corridors. Each of these tunnels led you to a large room. Paintings on all walls. An enigmatic sequence of white red and black colors. The writer carefully examines all the clues strung in the richness of the paintings.

A ladder built of human skulls is supported by the crack at the top of the cave. A ladder that rose to the sky. People who had crowns of trees instead of heads. They hunt strange animals. Stags with a wolf's head, or bears with an eagle's head. Trees were depicted as having human heads. A rope that seemed braided with plants was thrown toward heaven. He was curled around the sun. Then the sun was pulled inside the cave. They threw bone spears that stuck into the sky. Then they would climb on those spears.

An escape attempt from the darkness of the cave. Coming out of the dark.

He began to hear voices and dance with the trees, always speaking alone. Sometimes saw branches instead of hands, and his legs have grown roots so he was surprised that he could still walk.

The writer asked the villagers if they know him and if they remember him if I know who he is.

And all the inhabitants of that village told him the same thing, that it is a tree like all the trees in the miraculous forest.