I often wonder…how many years this old tree has stood here—silently watching.

How many hurried footsteps have passed beneath its branches.

How many love stories unfolded nearby.

How many grief-stricken tears fell unnoticed into the earth below.

How many little birds have woven fragile nests within its patient arms…returning season after season, trusting it to hold them.

How many tired souls have sought refuge under its shade—

borrowing a moment of coolness,

a pause from the weight of being human.

And yet…we cut down such ancient beings as though they were merely obstacles in our way.

Perhaps the tragedy is this—somewhere along the journey of progress,we forgot that we are not the ecosystem.

We are simply

a small part of it.The rivers do not flow for us alone.The birds do not sing for us alone.And these old trees were never placed here merely for our convenience.

Maybe the cruelest thing humans ever learned

was to mistake ownership for superiority.This old tree asks for so little—a little space to stand,

sunlight to reach for,rain to drink,

and the chance to continue doing what it has always done…to witness life unfold.

Perhaps the question is not whether the tree will survive us.Perhaps the question is—can we remember how to live gently enough to deserve its shade?

Because long after we are gone,

the world will remember not what we owned,but what we chose to protect.

And maybe, just maybe,

the quiet rebels among us

will be those who look at an old tree

and see not timber…but an old soul.

“May we leave behind more shelters than scars”

— Suvi’s Scribbles