Ode to a dying pine tree

I rise on spirit wings. Like the sea gull, I soar over the waters of life. I glide to Otherworlds Where the powers of the Old Ones are strong. I open my heart and mind to the gods. Their messages are clear to me.

Sea Gulls are spiritual messengers from the gods, especially ancient Celtic deities. They bridge the  gap between the living world and the spirit world. Opening yourself to their energy enables you to  communicate with the other side.Sea Gull can also give you the ability to soar above your problems  and see things from above. Seeing all the different viewpoints....thus the saga continues. ....Well an other day from hell I tell you. A `black dog day` as Churchill so eloquently put it--But many  seagulls visiting my space, my spirit-- one looked me straight in the eyes with his own yellow piercing  eyes that got  to my very soul. He knew me very well.  What magnificent eyes, melted my heart and  he did deserve those few French fries. But the message, just the same. Determined and relentless.  There are these huge pines in the back garden in the Rouge garden, --different species, their ages about  80 plus year, most least 80 feet tall, some taller reaching for the sky, --their fresh new growth wanting to  touch eternity it seemed to me.  Then --in their midst of all these proud , courageous trees was  one  equally tall, very thin, grey, completely dried out, with not a pine needle on its bare branches--yet  standing amongst this fine group. A solitary seagull gently flew by him, -gently gliding over him as if he  understood, felt his pain and whispered some consolation by his presence, acknowledging  his nakedness  and his sacredness. Offering a moment of comfort and understanding. Last week, a little Blue Jay  sat on its highest tip for quite a while, resting there-- at the very top, as if giving him a small crown of  final glory, a benediction--its blessing- But, this week, he is very sad. and lonely  and completely  lost. I could feel his sadness, his  pain, his grief, his disappointment as it seemed clear that death is near. --empty  of everything, waiting for death itself. That deadly saw. That instrument of cold death that will finally plunge  its blade into his frail body, making him just a memory. Not to be ever more to be remembered by anyone  of how very special he was this world. A gentle giant, with spirit and experience of his life in this world,   lost and his existence forgotten forever. Yet he lived and died as all living things do. This was the payment he had received for all he has given to the world, to life, to man. His very soul, his  very life force was sacrificed willingly--and now this cruel fate as he faces death-- I am sure not only  is his body breaking, but  his very heart. He has given all, in gentle majesty, patience and beauty. Poured   his soul energy into the world--  all arising from his unconditional love. Much grace and beauty had he  instilled in this world to make it a more peaceful  place.  Nothing more to give anymore, just his place,  where an another will take his place, and the cycle goes on.  My poor, poor beloved pine tree, no more days in the sun. No one even a fleeting thought about his life. Yet he was. He  had long life, a meaningful life. He existed in the sunlight--but unrecognised and mostly unappreciated. No gratitude for his sacrifice. No compassion for  his suffering now . Stripped of all dignity, standing there bare and naked. Only one lonely seagull seemed to have acknowledged his existence and pain.  Thank you--sweet bird of spirit of reminding me and waking me up to see him for the last time, and see this precious life lost--imagining how beautiful he must have been in his glory days. Green, fresh with the birds  nesting in its branches-- how proud he must have been to provide shelter, safety and comfort for so many.  Protect and shield them from the elements like some chivalrous knight. How happy to see their joy, their  young and their lives unfolding in front of his eyes. I know he remembers those joyful time, his heart singing  `his ancient pine tree songs` of his ancestors,  with the wind blowing through his branches rocking and  swaying gently the nests in its bower. Yes, he remembers it well. He was happy once. He was needed once. He was loved once. Yet death comes to him in such an unjust way. Why did he deserve such punishment?  How sad it is to  see--tears welled up in my eyes and heart to see such reflection of such stateliness lost being lost .Of being abandoned.    This is how I too feel --abandoned, totally devoid of spirit. Simply empty as I have given all that I could ever  give. Yet, it was not enough -- I am sad with an overwhelming sense of wanting to escape. My soul in a  vice that won`t let go wanting to drag me down, down wanting what is left, --even my very blood. Darkness seems so inviting to rest there, be there and never to return. Daily its lure seems more enticing, -- more and more seducting.  Nothing makes any sense. And, as you say, the `Angel of death` seems such a comforting thought these times. I am this pine tree. I too was once deeply loved. Am I still? Am I escaping the fate of my sweet beloved  pine?--Tell me. Quetzal