In the desert lived the great tree; tall, proud, measuring time, cooling the caravans in its shade - and waiting... From its top, high like a lighthouse, it looked at the world, the few people, and waited. And it had long forgotten what it was striving to discern on the unchanging horizon. Until that day of the legend arrived, and then the tree understood... it remembered. And it began to play, as it bowed down, its music, a music made for divine ears, as it bowed down to That child who gathered its fruit.