Trees And Wildfire – The Afterlife

Its black puppets, hanging on the burnt rust detach ever so slowly as if it were to escape the grasp of death and vanquish into an endless abyss. The masterpiece that had lived, and seen the past since clocks had started its endless phase of ticking. Had finally met its end.

Its sight, weakened by the dense, ebony smoke and its once beautiful, vibrant green leaves no longer freshen the air. The smell was reeking in the ashes and the taste was sickening. 
"But after all," it thought,” after the dark moon falls, the morning sun rises, and sheds its droplets of beaming rays onto the dying earth and nourishes the hopeless."

And as its burning bark stumbled at the fire, it cried out in agony and dropped down fiercely.
Everything eventually dies. But they also create. 

It watched its saplings flee from the scorching fire but only to watch in despair and do nothing. 

After the damage has healed and the green replenishes, will the saplings return, and they will see the birds chirp joyfully on the branches, the undamaged fruits, the gentle breeze whistles through the leaves, indescribable scenery.
The saplings will sigh in tranquillity and say, "I will nourish it and enjoy it and become it."

And after another lifetime, when the clocks stop ticking, trees will be there, till the stars collapse underneath their own weight, and till the night sky is endless, and society will see, that these innocent trees are the supporting pillar of this wonderful planet full of thriving life.