If the World Tree were real, with its mighty trunk, branches, and roots towering and reaching, it would be diseased. Full of mill worms and termites eating away at it, threatening to topple it.
I can see Him standing before it, as if he were small but somehow He towers above it. Reaching out He wraps his hand around the trunk and pull up the tree, it's roots clinging to earth but unable to hold on against His relentless pull.
He holds it out before him and now below it is a pit of pain and fire, cleansing and sorrowful.
He shakes the tree and the worms and mites and clinging earth tumble down towards the pit and as they do they change into bodies, wailing in misery as they fall.
"How?" I ask.
"Easily." He replies still shaking.
"Why?"
"Because."
"It's impossible!"
"Not with me."
More bodies fall. His face is sad.
"Do you delight in this?" I ask horrified.
"No." He replies sadly.
"Then stop!"
"No."
"Why?"
"To make it new."
"But what of the fallen?"
"Don't worry over them."
As He shakes the tree begins to live again. It's leaves blooming and becoming so green. He smiles as it rises again.
"How?" I ask.
"Because I bring life."
The last worms fall ad the pit is sealed. He sets the tree down and its roots shoot down deep, deep, into the very core of the world. It towers and grows and He somehow looks up as it soars higher but still down upon it with joy.
"Is this tree me?" I ask.
"It is...and it is not." He replies. "It is because you are always the same. It is not because a tree replanted is not the same tree but a new beginning."
"Is this tree the world?" I wonder.
"It will be." He replies.
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