In a courtyard we find ourselves,
A garden garnished in green,
In front of us stood a glowing tree of glory,
An astounding thing to be seen.
As a leader leads, so did I,
To this tree that caught our eye,
The knight knelt down in honour,
Of him I would not tell one lie.
To the group I said approach,
Knowing the trees properties,
It heals even the ant or roach,
Because this is the most special of trees.
Under the tree they stood,
A feeling of awe and good,
Their ailments subside,
Vitalised beyond their natural ride.
The knight mentions his strength renewed,
But questions about the fruit,
If they are some sort of food,
From the tree he picked in a curious mood.
With an inquisitive look he wondered,
How do I know all which has passed,
And this fruit he was holding,
He investigated what I knew, at last.
To him I said what I knew,
"The fruit is unripe, I know nothing of it",
"But in ripeness many things are true",
He cut the fruit open for a view.
Glowing green, like a light lime,
Hard to the touch, but smooth the casing line.
Inside, unripe hard glowing bristles,
A light of brilliant white.
And that's the last thing I saw,
For I did not sleep anymore.