In the darkness of nightfall, violent storms unleashed themselves upon the Spirit Forest. Torrents of rain flooded the earth beneath the trees. Violent winds test weakness in the forest canopy, tearing away all things unable to withstand its force.
In the havoc and darkness, predators joined me in the trees. Among them, my Panther sister and her young family. While they are welcome here, as a precaution, I ascend to higher and more delicate branches in the trees which would not withstand physical mass of my guests. In the dark chaos, with eyes open to each other, we wait for the storm to pass.
I feel no fear for the glowing eyes in the darkness. They know me as the Spirit Monkey in the trees. I am lighter then they are, more nimble on my paws. They respect my lack of fear and my purpose. I respect their role in the balance of Creation.
When my body becomes old and broken and is no longer needed, I will gladly sacrifice it to my Panther sister so that she might nourish herself and her young. For now, they enjoy the poems that I sing to the forest from the treetops. She would not silence my voice. In fact, she protects my voice from lesser predators in the Shadows.
In the dawn light, the storm has subsided. Vultures are perched high up in the trees with their wings wide open, waiting patiently for moist breezes to dry their feathers. The Panther and her entourage who took refuge in my home, offer me a farewell glance and descend to resume their predatory duties on the forest floor. Clouds and the treetops gently grace each other like a lover strokes the hair of his beloved.
The devastation has caused so much fear in the uninspired residents of the Spirit Forest. Their fear is like the weakness in the forest canopy. Just as weak branches in the trees are removed by the torment of the night time storm, creatures weakened by fear will be exposed to the predators in the Shadows. They too will be culled from the forest herd.
Those who band together in fear only delay their ultimate demise. Their numbers are difficult to hide, and attract the attention of the predators of the Shadows. The weakest, or noisiest in their group are sacrificed, allowing others to live in fear for another day, but most will find a similar end in the jaws of a predator.
All play a part. The broken branches nourish the soil in the forest floor. The fear ridden creatures nourish my Panther sister and her family. What remains, is cleaned by the vultures whose wings are now dry and circle high above the treetops.
Even in the aftermath of destruction, the awesome balance of Creation is evident. There is no creature, no rock, no tree, that does not play an essential role in the eternal dance of life. Out of destruction comes renewal.
I smell cool air, cleansed and renewed by the violent storm. It fills my lungs and lifts my Spirit. With this air filling my lungs, I sing a song in praise of Creator. It reverberates in the Spirit Forest. My Panther sister responds in the distance with a grateful growl.