There was the land, as there still is today and forever will be.  The land has possession of all riches.  More importantly, the land holds the roots of all living vegetation.  The land gives birth to the flowers, and the flowers show their gratitude in their marvelous hues.  The land gives birth to the bushes, and the bushes thank the land by sheltering the animals, as the land requested them to do so.  

Out of all the wonderful life of the land’s creation, the most loved of them are the trees.  The trees are also birthed from the land, and are given the ability to do things which no other plant can do.  The trees are given the ability to bear fruit and give shelter to the animals, much like the bushes; though the bushes praise the trees for their massive size and strength.  The trees give life preserving oxygen to all who surround them.  Without them, all animals would soon wither and die.  The trees take hold of the land’s surface, seeing to it that all other plants are protected from death.  

There is one more gift that the trees have that is unique to them.  The land gives them the right of choice.  It is because of this that few are able to tame the strength of the trees, because of their land-given gift of choice.  Unlike all other plants, trees are able to choose to do as they please.  With this great power a great responsibility comes.  The land, as their life-giver, gives them but only one regulation.  All trees must remain rooted to the land.  If any tree disobeys, there will be dire consequences.  All trees keep true to this command of the land, and all grow strong and perform many great deeds through the strength given to them by the land.  Some give shelter to all manners of creatures.  Some bear fruit too sweet and wonderful to put to words.  Some are bold enough to give up their bodies for benefit of those strange two-legged vermin, and these trees are oftentimes canonized for their selfless acts.  All trees perform their tasks diligently, but always give acclaim to the land, without whom none of their deeds would be done.

There is a family of birch trees, who stand amongst darker trees as guideposts to the ones who travel through their space.  These trees do their task well, but there is one young sapling among them who seems to be constantly downtrodden in its manner.  While the other birches give their attention to the travelers among them, this tree gives its attention to the fowl of the sky.  The tree watches everyday in amazement as the avian flight-takers grace the skies with their presence.  When the birds alight to the ground, this tree usually implores them for stories of their airborne experiences.  When the winged creatures comply, the birch tree is overwhelmed with envy at their stories.  The birch tree dreams at winter of joining the birds in flight, soaring across the lands, far above even the mightiest of trees.  The tree’s pleasure of flight is dashed away every spring when it awakes, however, and notices the roots that keep it to the land.

The birch tree, one day, cannot keep patience any longer, and tells its family and friends that it wishes to leave the land and take to life in the sky.  The tree’s family only hangs its foliage in shame at the tree’s foolishness and calmly remind it of the one rule given by the land:  “All trees must remain rooted to the land.”  The tree remains disheartened for many seasons as it sees the birds alive and carefree amongst the clouds.  Soon, the birch tree decides that enough is enough, and takes up an audience with the land one winter.

“Land, I wish to cut myself away from you.  I wish be rid of my restraining roots and take home among the clouds in the air.”

The land, surprisingly calm, gives an answer.  “I understand your wish, young sapling.  But surely you know of the one rule I have given.  All trees…”

“…must remain rooted to you,” the birch interrupts.  “Yes, I am fully aware of that decree.”

“Then why do you wish to break it?” the land inquires.  “Do you know that there are dire consequences for that action?”

“That is what I am told.  But no one ever tells me what that consequence is.  And quite frankly, I couldn’t care less.”

The land sinks in shame and sorrow at the foolish sapling’s words.  “Perhaps a lesson to the nature of things will give some clue to the tragedy that will befall you if you go through with this, foolish tree of mine.

“Don’t you know that nothing alive makes a home in the sky?  There is nothing breathing that lives there!  Even the fowls whom you so envy must rest their foot against me.  It is I who gives them their food.  It is I who gives them the homes for them to raise their offspring - homes such as you, my child.  There is nothing on the earth or even in the sky that does not originate from me.  Even the air which they breathe and glide upon as they grace the heavens with their glorious down is birthed from trees like you; and you from me.

“Do you not see?  You hold such great envy for the birds without realizing that they owe their life to you.  You however, my young sapling, owe your life only to me, as do all trees.  Even Rohandra, the mightiest and greatest Sequoia of all, keeps its roots to me.  And that fact does not lessen its might!  Rohandra, by my guidance and council, has reached a height so great that it is able to converse casually with the fowls in the midst of their flight!  All other trees give it credence as if it were an emperor.  It has guided all young saplings in the ways of proper growth.  And yet, it still keeps its roots to me.  Without me, all those marvelous deeds would be for naught.

“Believe me, young sapling.  If it is greatness that you seek, I can help you to it.  But I cannot do it if you separate yourself from me.  For all trees, there is no greatness apart from me.”

The young birch grows very melancholy after this lecture.  Instead of taking heed of the land’s wisdom, it begins to conspire as to how it will rid itself of its “limiting” roots.  One night during the spring, the foolish sapling has a consultation with the squirrels, mice, and snakes of the woods.  

“Woodland creatures who borrow the grounds!  I have a most urgent request of your skills.  I beg you; rend the cursed roots that tie me to the land!  Tear these damned chains of mine asunder!  Free me from the burden of this abominable tenet that keeps all trees from truly taking to the skies as they so rightfully deserve!  I ask you only to grant me this honor to be the first tree to surpass the land.  You will have my eternal gratitude if you were to do this.”

The woodland creatures, devious as they are, know all too well of the ghastly fate that awaits the young birch.  Nevertheless, they do as it requests.  At the break of dawn, they begin.  They gnaw and tear and gore and grind at the roots of the sapling, slowly severing it from its earthly bind.  The sapling begins to howl and blow with excitement, awakening the other trees around.

Watching the disaster unfold, the birch’s family begins to beg furiously for the cruel woodland animals to cease their murderous act.  The creatures reply, “This young spirit wishes to be free of its law!  Who are we to deny it that joy?”  The birch itself grows even more excited.  “Faster!  FASTER!!” it chants as its roots are continuously frayed.

The birch’s family begins to implore the land to act, leaves unseasonably falling from their branches out of great anguish for their beloved kin.  The land, even more mournful than the trees, woefully remarks, “I will not interfere.  Its death is its own doing.  This foolish sprout has the gift of choice, as do all trees.  This horrible fate is the sapling’s own liability.  For its demise, it will have no one to blame but itself.”

The birch tree’s family and friends could only watch in overwhelming misery and futility as their beloved child slowly dies away from its self-inflicted destruction – courtesy of those foul ground burrowers.  With every root cleaved, the tree grows more excited.  It even begins to boast to the others of the “freedom” that awaits it.  “Soon I will rise above the clouds!” it chants.  “Even Rohandra itself will cower at my greatness!  And I will have achieved it on my own!  What say you now, great land?!  Do you need any more proof of the vainness of your pointless law?!”

As the last root is slashed, the sapling gives one final cry of victory, only to collapse.  The woodland creatures, after the deed is done, begin to house in the fallen birch, using its carcass for their own gain.  The other birches mourn for this tragic and pointless death for many seasons.  Many of them still mourn to this day, christening themselves no longer as birches but as weeping willows.  This foolish tree serves as a lesson to all other trees who would dare separate themselves from their lawgiver, the land.  This birch learns only in death that the law was made not to keep it restrained, but to keep it alive.