Like every other tree, the Earth Tree starts off as a simple seed. No one knows where it fell from, but it’s there all the same.
Tiny.
Hard as a rock.
Magical.
You might think it is dead; it’s so still and so quiet. Right now, as a baby seed, it could be dug up or washed away, but by some power it isn’t.
It sits there, only a finger-length deep.
Thinking.
Waiting.
Then all at once, the seed bursts awake. A little green stem sticks straight up and a little brown root sticks down.
Living.
Breathing.
It begins to grow.
The Earth Tree breaks through the ground and shoots up in the air. Leaves unfold, petals bloom, and branches begin to stretch into the sky.
Rising.
Rising.
Rising.
Before long, the Earth Tree is huge, bigger than any other tree, and getting too big for the yard. Its tallest branches poke through clouds and touch space, and it’s bearing a hundred different kinds of fruit and flowers.
Enormous.
Vibrant.
Full of so many lovely, tasty things.
People gather around the Earth Tree to take photos, lay in its shade, and climb as high as they can. The Earth Tree grows faster than even the quickest child can climb.
Quickly.
Up into space.
It is like a city in the air.
But the most amazing thing about the Earth Tree is what no one can see. Because the little root that broke forth is still growing and going deeper than any root has ever been.
Digging.
Digging.
Digging.
First the root passes the place where all the worms and ants make their homes. It adds support to their little caves and brings water to drink.
Diving.
Spreading.
Making friends along the way.
Through goldmines and salt mines, the tree travels far. The tips of the roots greet the diggers with a wave before driving farther down.
Cavernous caves.
Underground lakes.
Shifting rocks.
The roots are like the tentacles of an octopus. They pass the dinosaurs and everything that sleeps in the deep places of the earth.
Mastodons.
Mummies.
Mussels.
Before long, the roots crack through the tectonic plates that move the world, inch by inch. But the roots are so smooth and so sure, the plates never dream of causing an earthquake. They part like water.
Through rock.
Through rubble.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
At the very center of the earth, where things get very hot and very hard, the roots go bravely through it all. They are magic roots, remember, and can go where other roots only dream.
Through fire.
Through stone.
Through the middle of everything.
And where the roots had been going down, down, down, now they began to go up, up, up. For they were on the other side of the planet now, where everything is in reverse.
Roots rocketing.
Roots climbing.
Roots squeezing.
The roots went through all the layers they had been through before, but now in the opposite direction. It felt like growing in reverse.
First the tectonic plates.
Then the dinosaurs and mines.
And then a whole host of worms and ants and other bugs.
It was precisely then that the longest of the roots pressed through the final layer of dirt and poked up into a night-time sky. Things here looked different, for the tree had reached a new backyard on the other side of the world.
Free again.
Breathing new air.
Rising into new skies.
Piercing the new world, the roots came together again and wove together tight until they formed the trunk of a tree. And just as it had before, the tree rose up with leaves unfolding, petals blooming, and branches stretching into the sky.
Rising.
Rising.
Rising.
Now, full-grown, its roots going right through the heart of the earth, the Earth Tree spread out so far and so wide that it provided shade and food and beautiful flowers for the whole world. No corner of the globe escaped the beauty and cool of its canopy.
Everything comes together.
Through the middle.
And out the other side.
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