The desert is Harsh and unforgiving...
Few can survive its high temperatures, dry air, and above all - lack of water.
Some bushes scattered in the arid creeks, perhaps a sad acacia.
The desert fox, snake and scorpion.
Not much more.
But Men challenged the desert's eons-long rule
They inhabited the desert, boldly bringing life with them.
They brought goats and dogs, vegetables and children cries.
They planted grass and fruit bearing trees.
They poured water on land that haven't tasted it for centuries.
They defied the very forces of the desert, the forces of death.
And, rising above all, as if to confirm they'r fragile victory beyond any doubt,
They planted the Palm.
Standing vigorously, championing over His kingdom - the foreigner who became a king.
His law is harsh - offering must be laid upon his trunk daily; water is his tribute.
For He is thirsty, and all the water in his kingdom cannot satisfy his thirst.
He demands constant attention - pruning, tying of his branches, cutting the old ones.
But his rule is Just - those who serve him are rewarded with the ultimate prize...
For his fruit contains all that those brave men stand for -
It has not bright or vivid color, nor a beautiful shape. It is small and unimpressive - but it is full of wonderful flavors.
It is tough and resilient, having gone through hot summer days, and freezing winter nights - but it is sensitive, put it in your mouth and it will melt on its own.
And it holds, in its core, the key for the future of its specie.
Life itself, in its rawest form.
Life amidst the empty, silent, desert of Death.
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