The sun hung its head behind the blanket of clouds unable to shake the hours of slumber. A dull grey light filtered through the weakening in the clouds. The trees, usually sun dappled, looked wearied and every bit their age. The ancient boughs had seen many days such as these pass and fade away. They silently watched as the world continued to turn and it inhabitants ambled on to their inevitable demise. They stood, stoic, on the brink of destruction unblinking in the face of suffering. Inside them lay the key to survival, the energy that pulsed through their very fibre from earth to sky an untapped resource wasted by mere burning.

JC