by John Xero
The Great Tree has many names – Yggdrasil, the White Tree, Existence, and more. From time to time it bears wondrous golden apples, of youth or knowledge or bright burning hydrogen.
It straddles the barriers between dream and reality, between life and death, story and history.
It is dying now, withered and scarred and bare, like a gnarled hand clawing at the dark cosmos. You can see the notches where knives and axes have cut into it, where its sap, its precious lifeblood, has been decanted.
It is the Tree of Life, and when it fails, so too do we all.