In a faraway land, in a distant time, on a small hill situated in the middle of a plane. There stood a tree, the tree was a great, big, and old oak.

it had seen days and nights fly past,

it had seen months run by,

it had seen years pass quietly,

and it had seen decades crawl away.

Yes this oak was truly great and old, it had seen most of what could be seen in the world.

it had seen children fly past,

it had seen men and women run by,

it had seen the elderly pass quietly,

and it had seen generations crawl away.

It had seen seeds being planted,

it had seen saplings grow from seeds,

it had seen trees grow from sapling,

it had seen seeds grow from trees.

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Yes surely this oak had seen it all by now, it had seen all the creatures of the world, and it had seen each and everything grow old and die.

It had seen decades fly past,

it had seen centuries run by,

it had seen millenia pass quietly,

and now it had finally seen an age.

The great, big, and old oak was surely right in its conjecture, it had seen all the world had to offer from its perch atop the hill.

Was there nothing new to the world after an age?, what of an era?, or an epoch?

The world seemed ever-changing, as well as never-changing for the tree, there were constantly new creatures coming to and fro. yet the same cycle the tree had seen in its first few years remained.

From seed sprouts sapling,

from sapling grows tree,

from tree grows seed.

Children,

men and women,

elderly

and generations.

Life breeds life,

life breeds death,

death breeds death.

Time claims all,

even a great,

big,

and old oak standing on a hill,

situated on a former plane,

now a sprawling forest.