The Bodhi Tree

I rolled over onto my back and finally really saw the Bodhi tree. It was immense with giant gnarled roots that made natural benches. The trunk stood straight and tall as true virtue, with wide branches that split into smaller ones tipped with giant leathery leaves that turned the sunlight into a kaleidoscope of patterns on the soft green.

Though blocked by the direct rays of the sun, everything appeared to be bathed in a soft glow usually reserved for dreams- and nostalgia.

Reaching out with hesitant fingertips I touched the bark. It was soft and flexible, reminding me of the fake dinosaur skin at the Museum. Underneath was a hardness, a refusal to be broken, that I associated with strength of will.

A tentative, feathery presence brushed against my mind.

Ageless, infinite, immortal.

Stars swirled around in time-lapsed nights. Continents drift apart and crash together in soundless fury. Billions of blades of grass push up against the soft earth, live, wither and die.

To the Bodhi Tree time was nothing.

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