Every morning, an old man walked to the edge of his village carrying a small bag of seeds.
He moved slowly, his hands wrinkled, his back bent by years of hard work.
People often passed him without noticing.
He planted trees.
Not for shade.
Not for fruit.
Not for praise.
When asked why he still worked so hard at his age, he smiled and said,
“I am borrowing the land from those who come after me.”
The villagers laughed.
Some said, “You won’t live long enough to see them grow.”
The old man understood something they didn’t.
He knew that a meaningful life is not measured by what we enjoy,
but by what we leave behind.
Each seed he planted was an act of faith —
faith in a future he would never see.
Faith in people he would never meet.
Years passed.
The old man grew weaker.
One day, he didn’t return to the field.
But the trees did.
They grew tall.
They held birds in their branches.
They cooled tired travelers.
They fed children who never knew his name.
And in that quiet forest, his legacy lived on.
“True selflessness is doing good without expecting to witness the reward.”
The old man never sat under the trees he planted.
Yet, he rested forever in the lives they touched.
Because some people don’t build for today.
They build so tomorrow can breathe.
