The centenary tree. Original story by @breili.

From distant lands came a bird with silver feathers like the moon, in its beak it brought life in the form of a seed, from the top it dropped it in the arid land of that dry place, it was a bad place for the life of the barren rocky terrain of landscape, gray life had never sprouted until the tears of the most beautiful lady who had walked by that earth, drop by drop fell on the ground, the coexisted sky also wept. And when he saw that the lady died alone in that barren land, she wept every day on her body.

The sky in its tireless weeping became a river, the gray color of the landscape had changed to an intense green, the seed left by the bird was reborn to feel the tears of heaven full of pain and life. His growth was slow, it took him months to leave the earth but once he did he could see that he was not alone, a death had filled the whole place with life and now the lady lived in between them, caressing the leaves with her hands. air, it blew every afternoon in the form of a breeze and its crying was heard at night like a chorus of crickets.

One hundred springs passed the cycle of life did not stop, the tree saw in a hundred years as all beings around him were born and died, but he was still there with roots deep to the rocks, with branches higher and closer to heaven, being home and shelter, every living being that wanted to feel a bit of its strength was approaching him.

One hundred autumns passed and their leaves did not finish, they made a warm bed at his feet, still leafy with loaded branches, no autumn saw him withered. He was a son of heaven, there was no earth stronger than him, he believed that with one hundred more springs he would be so close to heaven that he would not see the earth, he would follow the flight of the birds and the sunsets, the earth that he was born, he would have to forget about him because there was no place for a child of heaven.

One hundred winters passed and one day the landscape turned gray again, trees fell one by one, the river dried up again, the sky forgot its children and it did not rain again, but the centenary tree was still there with strong roots, long branches and covered with leaves. Until one day an X marked with white paint on its trunk indicated the end of his life.