The field was supposed to bring forth a mighty tree.
Unmovable. Steadfast. Fruitful.
It would yield a miracle harvest. Bring sustenance to the hungry as it taps the nearby rushing, crashing, living river.
But a survey reveals… a field of vegetables.
Vegetables everywhere. They cover the ground and they do nothing.
Above, they are starch. Uniform. Rows, columns.
Though they are filling, they are not fulfilling.
And below—the bitter roots.
Like potatoes grown in the same field for years and years.
There is bitterness and it allows space for nothing but bitterness.
A food that starves itself out.
The feeble tree is unfed.
It would be an orchard.
It could be an orchard.
But it is lost in a dirt sea.
Man cannot live on bitterness alone.
The tree is dying.
Someone, get the Gardener.