Past Writings

By Gordon Hisayasu

The giant tree stood, majestic, overlooking the swamp. All around it was life, feeding upon itself to survive.

A large bird swooped down and plucked the unsuspecting fish from the shallow, clear water. The fish struggled to free itself from the mighty beak that cut into its flesh, gasping for breathe, drawing no sustaining oxygen from the surrounding air. The bird raised its head and cut short the life it held in it's beak.

The water was teeming with small organisms, swimming freely among the supply of food it consumed to live on, that in turn lived off the plentiful nutrients in the water and murky bottom. The fish also ate freely of the abundance of small insects and organisms that filled the waters.

Large animals roamed the shores and fed off the lush foliage or the many smaller, vulnerable animals at their disposal.

Everywhere life flourished, sustained by the abundance of food, freely available.

Nothing noticed the consumed lives it feasted on to survive. Nothing gave notice to the panic screams of the victims or the quiet slaughter of sentient life forms to gluttonous predators.

This was life, freely and abundantly formed and freely and abundantly taken.

After a while the rains stopped coming. The once beautiful area was victim to suffocation from lack of water. The swamp diminished quickly and the water gave up the life of the many millions that found home in its sustaining ecosystem. The many organisms died in massive numbers in the oxygen poor pools that still remained. The fish also could not sustain breath and became decaying bodies, afloat and lining the shores in massive numbers. The food of many birds became dry corpses in the decayed, putrid graveyard.

Still, the rains stopped coming. The water gone, the animals, starved and thirsty, died slowly in painful agony, littering the surrounding land.

The once majestic tree stood alone in the bleak, dusty land. Its roots grew deep to try to squeeze every part of nutrient and moisture it could from the dry soil. Soon, it also could no longer survive the dryness and quietly gave up it's life.

The march of the centuries continued and life came and went in its many forms. The species, as numerous as the diversity of the prevailing environment pressures, also came and struggled to survive, becoming victim to circumstances they could not control. Always, the cycle continued and death conquered. Always, the march of time was marked by the predictable death, sometimes quietly, sometimes in agony, but always inevitable.

All of this came to past and nobody noticed, or even remembered what once was.