A lovely young tree
upon a hill
so small it stands
alone and still.
There is nothing
around to protect
from harsh wind and rain
and sheer neglect.
And yet is stands
though sometimes bends
from storm to storm
till it's long life ends.
Oh why, oh why
does it grow strong
when by all appearances
it just doesn't belong.
Somehow when I gaze
upon this tree
and see it's life
I'm gazing at me.
For I stand alone
when harsh winds blow
and I bend (almost break)
yet on I must go.
Go on to what,
I am not sure,
but like the tree,
I will mature.
(c) Ministry Through Music - kle
