Hearing cries of humans, I have traveled out of the Spirit Forest to discover its source. I wandered dusty, barren roads, destroyed bridges - Created, destroyed and abandoned by men. I took refuge on roof tops in villages and cities. From the sparse city treetops, I observed humans rain down hurt with fire and metal from the skies. The voices of death and condemnation are heard from leaders of humanity- Leaders of countries, leaders of religions. Self proclaimed spirit leaders spread fear only to grasp power and submission from the masses. Religions declare war in the name of their manifestation of God. Men steal land, claiming its wealth and enslaving its inhabitants - all in the name of god, country, righteousness. This treachery makes its way to the Spirit Forest. Its creatures tremble at the advance. I come as their emissary, compelled to find the source and reason with its nature.
From the Spirit Forest comes nourishment for all creatures, humans alike. Why has Creation has not condemned such a destructive race? - So easily done, Life on our planet - So fragile. Our magnificent Sun need only to stir slightly in our planet's direction. The heavens need only rain tears of ice and fire. The belly of the earth need only purge smoke and burning rock into a darkening sky. So many swords pointed at humanity! Yet it proceeds on a path of its own self destruction, yet is spared destruction.
With monkey curiosity, I explore a public square. A child plays there. Her laugh is magic. She smiles like the rays of sun. Her pale eyes glitter like stars. She hands me an offering of fruit as I dance in the light of her presence. Without a touch, I feel her affection, her innocence, her love. She is surrounded by treachery, suspicion and hate - Yet, she pours love to a small monkey in the market, unnoticed by adult humans. I bow to her. She bows to me.
Creation has led me to the the source of Humanity's light. It has revealed the spark that withholds destruction. I return to my treetop home, retracing the path of destruction and death. I find my familiar treetop perch, where the leaves rustle in the cool evening breeze. I have seen the wisdom of Creation in the eyes of a child and await its unfolding.
