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Thus spoke the old cedar:
“Behold, the fairest days of all the seasons approach!
Days that shall not shrink from chilling thy bones, nor from drenching thee, nor from rousing muddy torrents! They shall heed not the judgments of men! Neither shall they spare the tears of any soul, nor show favour unto branch or bough. They shall not regard whether the leaf be green, or yellow, or crimson…”
The thunderous voice of the centuries-old cedar joined with the wind, casting a cool dread upon the stature of the forest. With great unease and wondering awe did the trees listened to his oration:
“Wilt thou withstand the winter? As your withering flanks fall leaf by leaf, shall you be able to swallow that patience bitter as venom? In defiance of the piercing frost, wilt thou find the strength to hide the trembling of your branches?
Either thou shalt surrender your trunk and be counted among those who sink into the soil and decay… Or without muttering ‘How harsh it is!’, thou shalt thrust thy roots deeper yet, clinging with all your strength unto the earth.”
The sage cedar, rising through the clefts of the giant rocks, stood where the wind blew its fiercest: At the edge of a bottomless precipice, at the highest point of the forest. All creatures of the wood heard him, yet he alone knew that he was, in truth, calling out to his own heart:
“November days herald a great trial: the trial that separates those who shall collapse and rot into the earth from those who, with hope and steadfast faith, shall strike new roots to rise anew!”
The weathered ceder fell silent for a time, to let the woodland digest his words. Then, with a voice that echoed across the mountains and soared toward the heavens, he cried out his final utterance:
“To strive for the garden of eternal green! Verily, that is the most glorious of all victories!”
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