The Tree That Stood Before I Was Born

The Tree That Stood Before I Was Born

Before I was born, the tree was already there,

and it taught me everything I needed to know.

Leaf by leaf, the withered dreams

dropped quietly at its feet,

the dreams I entrusted to its branches

returning each day to the earth,

fading like fallen leaves

that never had the chance to become anything more.

Strangely, I am not sad,

nor do I sink into despair.

For I know the fallen leaves

will nourish the roots again,

and I can already see the great tree

sending out tender leaves next spring.

New dreams can be made again—

fresh as young leaves.

Old dreams were destined

to wither someday.

In my shadow, the fallen dreams dissolve,

and I whisper gently to myself:

That is all it is.

Even when I look back,

there is nothing but a brown carpet

woven from the leaves of yesterday.

Then one leaf, falling from the tree,

rides the north wind

like a paper airplane,

approaching me in the last moment of its life

to leave behind a final message.

Swaying slowly, slowly,

it draws near

to whisper its last words:

"I will be reborn

as a new leaf."

I catch that leaf in both my hands

and vow within my heart—

Perhaps, someday, surely, absolutely.

Pressing the dreams’ murmurs to my chest,

I stand firm and promise myself

I will never lose my way again.

And when my own dream comes true,

I wish to be buried beside this beloved tree,

to offer my body as nourishment

for its future roots—

for the people who will one day

live again beneath its shade.