By Virajveer Khurrana
A tiny seed, so small, so shy,
Lies nestled where the soil meets sky.
It does not shout, it does not boast,
Yet cradles dreams of forests most.
Beneath the earth, it softly stirs,
A spark of life, the world’s whispers.
It’s roots descend, it’s shoots ascend,
A fragile start, a strength to lend.
It breaks the ground, it meets the sun,
The journey of a tree has begun.
With branches high and leaves so green,
It shelters life, a haven seen.
The birds will rest, the children play,
Its shade is a blessing through summer's day.
Its trunk, a keeper of the past,
Holds stories carved in rings that last.
It knows the wind, the rain, the stars,
The songs of dawn, the skies afar.
But time turns cruel, the axes bite,
The forest trembles, losing light.
The saws hum low, the branches fall,
The roots are severed, one and all.
What once stood tall is splintered, torn,
“the world I fed now betrayed us all”
The sky grows quiet, the earth turns bare,
No rustling leaves, no life to spare.
The birds have fled, the rivers dry,
And still, the seed begins to cry:
"Will you remember all I gave—
The air, the shade, the lives I saved?"
Though forests fade, though trees may fall,
The seed endures, it holds it all.
A quiet hope beneath the ground,
A whisper soft, a sacred sound:
"Though broken now, I dream anew—
The green returns if hearts stay true.
"
For every tree that falls in vain,
A thousand seeds can rise again.
But seeds need love, they need the care
Of human hands to flourish there.
And yet, we burn, we carve, we take,
Until the earth begins to break.
The rivers choke, the soil sighs,
The forests wane beneath our skies.
Our hunger blinds us, deafens, too,
To nature’s plea: “Remember you.”
What will we do when trees are gone,
When silence greets the morning dawn?
The seed, it whispers, soft and deep,
"Awake, before the earth must sleep.
I am the tree you used to love,
The gift from stars and skies above.
Now buried low, I wait in trust,
For hands to mend what’s turned to dust.
"
And in its call, a truth appears,
A reckoning for all who hear:
"The forests call, the rivers plea,
The earth remembers harmony.
The time has come to heal, restore,
And bring back balance, evermore.
"
So plant the seed, protect the land,
Extend to nature your own hand.
Let roots entwine and branches rise,
Reclaim the blue of endless skies.
Restore the forests, wild and free,
And find the magic in the tree.
For in each seed, a promise lies—
A world reborn, where hope survives.
The earth will thrive, if hearts concede,
The magic starts with us—and the seed.