Under the Bodhi Tree

In a far off land; in a far off place. Was a rich king, and a wise man. The rich king was young, and did not stray far from the palace. The wise man was old, and sat forever by a Bodhi Tree. Keeping its wonderful fruit safe from grabbing monkeys and slithering snakes. Now, the rich young king could see no value in a tree that produced such small fruits for such unworthy animals.
“Why do you guard this tree?” He asked, once. “Day after day, when it does nothing of value?”
“Because,” said the wise man “the fruit that this tree produces will never truly be seen by those who cannot appreciate it. They eat the fruit, because they need to survive and cannot appreciate the value of it. They only see the sweetness the fruit makes, and the temporary joy they get from it.”
The young king sat down by the wise old man. And looked up through the leaves to see the sun poking through the top of the tree, and the bluebirds picking away at the bright red berries. He noticed that while the tree was small, it provided shade from the boiling hot sun. And they had quite a peaceful day, talking under the Bodhi Tree.