the faery in the tree

A lone faery sits up in a tree. Contemplating life's simple joys.
"Is one monent of true happiness really worth all that pain and suffering?" She wondered. "Sometimes I do not think so."
She sighed, looking below her. Even at the lowest branch, the ground is already at a great distance from her.
"Would anyone really cared, if I fell at this moment and disappeared from their lives?" Again she wondered. "Sometimes I do not think so."
"Who am I?" She looked around, as if searching for an answer. "I am me. But who is 'me'? Does anyone really know who they really are?"
Again she voiced her questions aloud, as if expecting an answer.
"Do I see myself, as other see me? How am I to others? How many eyes are there to see me as? Am I different to all?"
She flutters up to the next level of branches, again settling herself down.
"What is love?" She looks up past the branches, up into the blue clear sky. "We all feel it. We all claim to know it. But really what is love?"
She holds a hand to hear heart.
"I too, believed I have felt love. But what is love?"
She pulls out a small necklace, a locket.
"Is love malleable? Can we hold it?"
She clutches the locket in her had, as if to emphasize the meaning.
"Or is it like the thoughts that pass through our minds?"
She opens up the locket, a picture of a noble faery lie within.
"Can we see love? Or is it like the air we breathe, invisible, yet we know it is there?"
Again she flutters up to the next level of branches.
"Do we exist?"
She holds out her hands, looking at them intently for a moment, as if they will fade into nothingness. Fade and disappear.
"Or are we only in a dream? A dream weaver's creation."
She brings her hands up to her face, tracing first the contours of her ears, jaw and chin, then reaching up and tracing her lips, nose and eyes.
"I seem real enough. But one will only see what they want to see. When one does not know the truth."
She rises and climbs up onto the next level of branches.
"Love. Feelings. What is a 'feeling'?"
She looks down to the level of branches where she though of love.
"Anger. Sometimes that's all I feel. Sadness. 'Tis all I have now."
She sighs softly, a tear falling to the ground, now seemingly many miles from where she sits. "Happiness does not exist for me anymore. From whence it came, it now returns. Farewell."
She looks up at the next level of branches, the tears staining her face with a trail of white.
"Anger, Sadness and Fear numbs me now. I feel nothingness. I am nothing."
She flies up to the last level of branches, the highest level and looks up at the sky. So clear and beautiful it is that it blinds her, so deep she has fallen into the darkened abyss of her soul.
"Life, Death. Are they the same?"
She touches her eyes, moments earlier blinded by the beauty of the sky. Now they see only darkness. As her soul.
"Life is the beginning. But so is Death. In the world of Death, is Death, Life and Life, Death?"
She sighs.
"Too many questions."
She seats herself at the topmost branch of the tree. Seeing nothing, yet seeing everything.
A lonely faery sits up in a tree. Contemplating life's many questions.