Oh, no, you are wrong.
I give my best when men leave
My parting gift is the best.
When they go for the final rest.

I’m a huge tree standing firm on the ground,
Deep rooted, branches spread high and wide;
I give men everything for living,
Food, houses, carts and boats
But, the best they receive, is while leaving!
Yes, I give them firewood!

Placing them on my lap, as Mother Earth does
I pat and say, ‘relax, why hurry?
You have run enough, stretch, sleep,
And sleep’
Then comes the fire, with thousand tongues
Licks me with love with all its tongues!
And in no time we are one,
There is none to block our way,
we carry the surrendered to the sky.

The wind hugged me, I didn’t become the wind;
Drenched in rain but didn’t become water.
But when the fire touches , the firewood becomes fire
If water is the start, fire is the last.

‘And Moortis in between?’

Yes, with AvAhanam in water, you start
And with poornAhuthi in the fire, you end
AlankAram, archana and other aaraadhanas to idols
In between – that reflects your beginning,
Middle and end.

‘Oh, Tree, I’m safe in your hand to reach my land !’