Sunday, January 27, 2013

The Song of the Tree by Lotis Key

Author Bio:

Lotis Melisande Key (SAG/AFTRA/ACFW/MCWG) has lived a life of wide travel and curious variety. She’s raised horses in the Australian outback; skied the Alps; run tours through a tropical jungle; bought & sold antiquities. She’s been a restaurateur; a breeder of show cats; a third world church planter. She’s worked in an orphanage, and run a ministry that puts children through school.
After a professional theater début at the age of twelve, she subsequently starred in over seventy five feature films for the Asian market. She’s also hosted numerous television and radio shows. Upon settling in the United States, she signed with Chicago, New York, and Minneapolis based talent agencies, expanding into American on-camera and voice over narration, industrial videos, trade shows, professional theater, television, and radio commercials.
Retiring from secular work, she founded MESSENGERS, a Christian theater arts group based at Bethlehem Baptist Church in Minneapolis ( As artistic director, she toured the company throughout the US, Canada, and Asia.
Vice-president of the Minnesota Christian Writers Guild, Lotis is a passionate storyteller. Her work focuses on the mystery of God, and His incomprehensible love for the unattractive, wayward parts, of His otherwise perfect, creation.

Facebook: Author Page
Website:  Lotis Key


Despite promises of eternal joy given by the Tree of Life, a privileged young woman loses everything in a brutal war. Her husband disappears; her family is murdered; her home is burned to the ground.
Desperate, starving, and burdened with an unwanted child, she now despises and rejects the Tree she once worshiped. Ripped from her land and people, forced into survival immigration, she becomes a lowly refugee, a servant in the homes of the rich. Her unusually gifted child thrives, but is an ever present reminder of ultimate loss and betrayal.
Two women: one broken, the other rooted in bitterness, continue to be drawn towards the song of a Tree that will not let them go. Along roads of degrading poverty and equally destructive wealth, each much wrestle with the siren call of perfect love, and its altar sacrifice of perfect trust.
The Song of the Tree is an intense, contemporary allegory that moves the God-seeker from fist shaking stance, down to knees before the throne.


In the land near yet far, grows the magnificent Tree of Life: older than memory, wiser than time, stronger than the earth on which it stands. Barring approach is a massively ornate iron gate. It is a complex work of blooming flowers and thorny vines, which weave and tangle in embrace to tell the story of life. The kind Tree, softening the sharp edges of that tale, stretches over and around it, inviting all who will, to stop and take comfort in the shelter of its arms.
The Tree tends a garden and among its flowers grows a delicate queen. She worships the Tree and claims it as King. It has promised her eternal joy; she has promised her faithfulness. Their love is true. Their commitment is real. But their journey together, has just begun.

 OneThe Beginning

The air is sultry, and half asleep in the arms of her Tree, she’s let a song escape. Unknown lips enter her dream and capture the wayward melody. Drowsily allowing trespass, she is spun into a silken web, threads of warp and weft intertwining in dulcet tapestry. Lulled by the melody, the little queen floats among the woven notes, catching and storing them one by one in the treasure box of her heart.
“Do you dream of me?”
Startled, pulling herself quickly upright, she turned to see a young man looking in at her from the other side of the gate. Frowning, she eyed him with displeasure.
He continued, “Because I dream of you.”
“I’m a queen,” she answered. “No one may dream of me without permission.”
“I make full confession, your majesty. I’m a prince who has passed this way three times now, each time stopping to dream of you. You must arrest me immediately.”
The fire-tinged air paused in its journey between them; a slight breeze turned its face to watch. Hot young blood surged, and with the same catch in the throat, the same small toss of the head, proud spirits examined each other.
In a flash of temper, she jumped off the branch, shaking the Tree and causing a sprinkling shower of its red flowers. She strode to the gate. From opposite sides of iron flowers and thorny vines, two pairs of dark eyes offered fierce challenge. Each the other’s equal in passion, could hold their own fortress; yet, despite her ready sword and quick wit, unexpectedly, with no warning to herself, the little queen surrendered. She blushed. She smiled. She glanced away. She lowered her lashes. She laughed softly. She opened the gate.
The prince, holding her prisoner with his eyes, entered and closed it behind him.

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Everyone loved him. He, in turn, loved everyone back with an energy that melted resistance. His laughter ignited gold lights floating in the depths of his dark eyes, and the net he captured with, turned the free into grateful slaves.
He excelled in adventure, poetry, games of all kinds, singing, dancing, conversing until dawn and rising late. His was nobility, strength and kindness, yet also the aroma of barely controlled wildness. No one could resist.
The little queen’s family enjoyed him thoroughly, but warned her: she must not marry him. That kind of beauty isn’t safe, they said. That kind of beauty can be dangerous, they said. That kind of beauty has too much power, they said.
She listened solemnly to their voices, but the nodding of her head was not to their wisdom, but rather, to the beat of her heart. His long lashes, framing eyes lit from within, the perfect cheeks flowing into swan-strong neck, the powerful muscles of his arms, the silken brush of his lips against her hand … it was too much for such a little queen, and she was snared.
The power of youth is its faith in eternal joy; on a song-filled sunrise in early spring, young lovers stood, blending two into one, making promises that must last forever. Dressed in white and gold, they exchanged vows beneath the Tree of Life, committing to each other: families, fortunes, and futures.
A thousand guests sang and danced on the sea of emerald grass, a net of sparkling dew diamonds spread across its waves.
The queen gave her prince a gold pocket watch engraved with their entwined initials. He promised it would mark his time, until his time was done.
The prince gave his queen a necklace from which hung a perfect pearl. She promised to warm it with her heart, until her heart lay cold.
The brightness of their love knew no shadow, each day filled with the brightness of mutual delight. His pleasure in her softness: the sculpture of her gentle form, the golden color of her skin, the purity of her laughter, never diminished. She in turn, needed only to stand by his side, the lobe of her ear warmed by his whisper, to know completeness.
In the fourth month of their marriage, the happiness they thought could grow no more, exploded into ecstasy, ignited by the discovery of a child sleeping softly within the queen. A great feast was given to announce this joy of all joys; tears were wept, congratulations proclaimed, thanks raised. Laughter rang throughout the kingdom like the tinkling of a thousand silver bells.
Each day the queen, with her prince and unborn child, roamed slowly through the wide gardens of their castle. When the heat rose, they swam in the clear stream that wound through the meadows like a sparkling ribbon. Floating on their backs, hand in hand, they watched the clouds form and reform above them. Huge, blue dragonflies followed their course as the water, bubbling and laughing, pulled them along, silver-haired rushes slipping like silk between their toes and fingers.
Watching the sky endlessly unrolling above them, the queen reflected, “My parents floated in this water and watched this sky. As did their parents. And their parents’ parents. One day, our children will also float here, watching and watched by, this same blue heaven. The sky is forever, as are you and I.”
Seated on the smooth stone banks, allowing the sun to warm and dry their skin, they took turns amusing each other with stories, before finally rising and making their way to the Tree. Sinking into the grass at its feet, the prince would lay his head in his queen’s lap, desiring to be as close as possible to his child.
“A son,” he whispered in amazement. “I have a son.” The queen laughed at his presumption, but he was adamant. He sang to his little prince, and the queen, filled with the pleasure of his pleasure, accompanied him.
One morning the prince, singing softly with his head pressed against the child’s, felt it turn towards him and clearly reveal the beat of its heart. He fell silent, overcome with wonder. Eyes filling with tears, he whispered, “Your life force pulses with the rhythm of power. You have the heart of a king. A mighty warrior. A conqueror among men.”
The queen, stroking the prince’s head and gazing up at the light filtering down through the blood-red flowers of the Tree, laughed. “If he looks like you, it will be enough for me.”
The warm winds of their time carried simple dreams that should have come true, but on earth the season of song is a short one.

Lotis Key is giving away an EBOOK copy of  The Song of the Tree via a voucher for any ereader format.
To be entered in the book giveaway, leave a comment along with your email address. You can enter the book giveaway twice--once on each spotlight post.


Teela said...

It's a rainy Sunday afternoon and so I'm headed for a NAP, but first just wanted to drop a note and say, Blessings Lotis, and I do hope that I win your book!

KayM said...

It's been a while since I read an allegory. I've always enjoyed them. This ones sounds fascinating, as does the author.

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