The numerous trees overlooked the road,
Watching the multitudes pass by.
“Save trees, save trees!” chanted the crowd —
Placards and slogans filling the sky.
“What’s the point?” asked a tree.
“What’s the point of shouting so?”
“They hold up paper that comes from trees;
They killed them and now they want to set us free?”
“The point here is they are different humans,
Trying to create a different world.
They made a mistake; they’re correcting it.
Why complain?” The banyan tree said.
The two horses plodded steadily along,
Pulling the chariot full of humans.
A whip hits their backs from time to time;
The horses said nothing; what could they do?
“What’s the point?” asked one horse.
“What’s the point of slaving away?”
“These humans, so heartless, torture us all day.
Must we live and die in disgrace?”
“If humans are bad, should we be worse?”
“Must we complain?” said the other horse.
“Maybe someday this world shall be good
And we needn’t depend on the cruel for food.”
Summer and Winter and Rain and Spring —
Between the four, this world has it all.
And yet humans remain unsatisfied,
Complaining of the heat, the cold, or rainfall.
“What’s the point?” Summer groused.
“Why should we give them the luxury of change?”
“Summer is right!” thundered the Rain.
“Let’s not give them seasons at all!”
“Look at those children,” Spring smiled gently,
“How happy they are to see us come!”
“That is the point,” whispered Winter,
“To let these few cherish our blessing.”
We often ask, ‘What’s the point?’
As if we doubt the universe.
But on second thought, I’m glad we ask.
For, that is how we make a point!