Hope

The great trees swayed, rustling their colored leaves in response to the babbling brook. Rabbits and squirrels and foxes and birds all came to listen. The birds would join in when the could. It was a delicate balance between the three as they shared all that they knew.

The trees were ancient. The had lived hundreds of years, and would likely live hundreds more. They have seen change in it's purest form, and have known the world before it knew itself. The trees spoke of how things were.

The brook reached far across the land. It saw everything there was. All of the happiness, sadness, loyalty, and desperation of the world were plain the the brook as it made its way through the world. The brook spoke of how things are

The birds were fresh and new. They exist only for a short while, but make the most of what they have. They see the world from high above. When removed, the have the ability to look at a situation from a different perspective. The birds spoke of how things could be.

The three conversed in their own languages. Day in and day out, speaking of how things were, are, and could be, until at some point they come together. A single language is formed. It is a language formed from history and knowledge. From optimism and pessimism.

It is the future. It is hope.