Casual Tea With A Tree (3)

Ed sat cross-legged before the tree and stared at its stoic black leaves.

"I sleep too,"

"Yes, sleep. Tea" Ed answered blankly.

"Ah, yes. What great topic. One cooks the leaves it seems,"

"Cook" Ed repeated.

"Hmm... a great topic. As you are dying, you should at least taste my tea. But cooking, this art needs many things you do not have,"

"Have," Ed said.

"One needs water,"

"What is water?"

"Yes, a fine topic. Many thought it the spell for life, the breath on which all rest. It fills, it moves, it cools,"

"Cools,"

"Yes, you are filled with water boy, but you do not have it,"

"As you are as I am," Ed said.

"Yes, As I am as you are. As I was as you were,"

"Then give me some," Ed said.

"Water, yes. We have but cannot give. My roots run deep but cannot find," the tree drawled.

"Find? But you have as I have," Ed said.

"Yes, as you have, why find? You are filled with it, share it with me, then I am filled with it, can share with you," the tree drawled as the sound of fluting ended in the distance, calling Ed to sleep. Ed slept, the tree slept. For how long, they did not know. It also did not matter.

Again, a flute sounded in the distance and both woke. One a tree with more leaves, the other, a man before a tree, both surrounded by dark bottomless water.

"Water," Ed said. This time his tone did not sound blank it sounded as though he saw something he knew.

"Yes. One needs a cup, one needs a kettle," the Tree said.

"Cup, what is a cup?" Ed's blank eyes returned to the tree.

"Yes, it holds in place the water that always moves,"

"Kettle,"

"Yes, the brewer. But boy, some are made of mud, some of wood; neither that we have," the Tree drawled.

"Mud?" Ed asked.

"Yes. Where there is soil and water, mud lies somewhere hidden," the tree said.

"Soil,"

"Yes, it holds, it breathes, it warms," the tree said.

"You have soil," Ed said.

"Yes, as do you,"

"You have mud,"

"Oh, you know where hidden?" the tree asked. Ed looked down at his feet. He had no feet. It was swallowed by the darkness.

"You are dying," the tree said. Ed walked to the bank of the water surrounding them and looked down. He grabbed the soil by the side and lifts to the tree.

"Soil," he said as though he saw something he knew.

"Does it make a cup?" the tree asked in a drawl.

Ed kneaded it with his hands, but could not come to a decision on what a cup looked like. He turned to the tree, but it moaned in silence. So he sat under it and kneaded mud.

The sound of the flute ended, drifting tree and man into sleep. For how long they slept, they did not know; it also did not matter. The flute sounded again from a beyond and man and tree woke; one moaning and whaling, the other Kneading mud. In a continuous silence, they remained. Sometimes they slept, sometimes they woke; one whaling, the other kneading.

"Oh, cup," Ed seemed to realize as he looked at the shaped mud in his hand.

"Yes, cup," The tree drawled and Ed kept it aside and started Kneading again. And again they went, for many sleeps and several wakes, a tree whaled, a man Kneaded mud.

"Oh kettle," Ed said in realisation.

"Yes, kettle," the Tree answered.

"Tea," Ed said blankly to the tree.

"Yes, one needs fire,"

"What is fire?" Ed asked.

"Yes, a fine topic, fire. It warms and heats and burns,"

"Burns,"

"Yes, but you have no fire. I feel no fire from you," the tree said.

"You have fire?" Ed asked.

"I have no fire as you have no fire," the tree said.

"As you are as I am, oh," Ed said and sat there blankly.

"It crackles and burns; many have none. They make," the tree said.

"Make," Ed repeated.

"Wood, it seems. Wood and dry leaves," the tree drawled.

"Wood. Leaves," Ed stared at the tree, "You have wood, and you have leaves,"

"Yes, I do," the tree drawled.

"Share leaf and wood," Ed said.

"I am leaves and wood,"

"As I am as you are," Ed said and the two returned to silence. They slept and woke continuously, till they finally spoke again.

"Then I take that which is me," Ed said and broke a branch covered in leaves.

"Yes, quite the topic, I am. Let us ponder upon why you are; why I am," the tree said.

The two remained as was; one whaling sometimes, pondering sometimes, the other waiting for the leaves to dry; sometimes asleep sometimes awake.