My tree was an olive tree.
Some saw it as a simple tree;
some used its olives,
while others viewed it as the right touch for the scenery.
But for me, it was a whole world.
It was my fortress;
it was my boat;
it was my home,
a completely different world to explore.
It was a place to hide when life got hard,
a place to clear my mind.
It was my everything,
the friend who always listened to me,
who did not leave,
who did not doubt,
who did not judge,
who did not hurt,
who did not make fun of all I felt.
My tree, the one who always fascinated me,
who made me curious about its life,
showing me that magic is real
and that magic doesn’t necessarily involve spells.
Immortality might not just be a random dream from a fantasy book.
I remember hearing for the first time about its age,
two hundred years, my parents said.
It was like magic proving that everything is possible,
even what seems impossible,
like the lost dream of immortality.
I know even trees don’t live forever,
and I think I found out why,
why death exists.
We all need a time to take a deep rest;
we all have moments of seeking a shady spot for a nap.
Death is for us to know that no pain lasts forever;
it’s like an odd hope.
Remember, death is not as bad as everyone thinks it is,
as long as it wasn’t rushed.
For the day I won’t be here anymore,
my tree, thank you for showing me the beauty of this world
when my world was filled with sorrow and hatred was devouring my heart.
Thank you for showing me that there is a bright side even in death.
I will stop rushing my rest.
Until the day we meet again,
I will keep making the impossible possible,
and remember you will always shine like the purest gold
among the essence of this world in my unraveling heart.