High above the world, where clouds brushed the mountains and stars felt near enough to touch, stood a tree unlike any other. Its roots shimmered with light, its branches sparkled with ancient wisdom. Beneath it, a Teacher waited—not with sermons or scrolls, but with silence, presence, and a knowing smile. One day, a young soul named Elijah climbed the path to the summit. The world below had grown dim for him—his dreams faded, his heart uncertain. As he approached, he bowed and whispered, “Teacher, teacher, tell me true... what kind of God moves in you?” The Teacher said nothing at first. He simply raised a hand to the great tree, which began to hum—a music Elijah didn’t hear with his ears, but with his soul. In that moment, Elijah remembered—the way a mother’s embrace once made him feel infinite, the first time he painted without fear, the light he used to carry without knowing it. Tears filled his eyes. “What do you see with closed eyes?” he asked. “Where does the soul go to remember how to know?” The Teacher finally spoke, voice like wind through leaves. “The soul never forgets. It only sleeps. And dreams in silence until you listen.” Elijah sat still for hours beneath that tree. Visions came—not of glory, but of grace: a hand held in hardship, laughter after grief, courage born in quiet moments. “Is it spirit? Magic? Art that heals?” he asked. The Teacher nodded. “Yes. And more. It is love that chooses to stay, even when it breaks. It is beauty that dares to bloom after every storm.” When dawn broke, the Teacher placed a hand on Elijah’s chest. “Go. Become the answer for another who has forgotten their light.” And so Elijah descended the mountain. But he was not the same. He walked into the world carrying the sky in his eyes, his voice soft with wisdom, and his hands open to help. He became a teacher—not by title, but by truth. He taught not just with words, but with how he listened, how he loved, and how he lived. And those who met him would later say, “When he spoke, it felt like the tree itself was whispering through him.”