Anafora

The Thought Behind It All 

It’s a tree, 
No, a seed. 
Wait, first a thought

In the mind of God. 
Created. 
Planned

To uphold the weight 
of 
a tree that falls

Needing the help of the other 
to sustain 
a sense of worthiness.

It fell, this seed 
onto stone, a ton or more 
of powerful influence.

The thought was
to die 
on the barren surface.

Yet life within 
seeking the life  
without

Was nurtured by sun 
and refreshing rain 
an a bit of plain, brown dirt

That came together 
randomly, yet planned 
to change the world,

And to be changed by  
deeper Reality 
that most do not see.

Up its body went into the sky, 
trunk and boughs 
and leaves

Splitting the sky 
with arms of  
praise and worship

To the creator 
thanking the heavens 
for breath

In and out 
not thinking of itself 
but giving away

Beauty 
Oxygen 
A reason to live

While its roots found  
their way down,  
strong, urgent, slowly

To a deeper source 
of hidden love needed 
for the leaves to burst

Forth with joy and gladness, 
singing… 
“Glory!!”

The strong, gentle roots 
break the stone 
rolling away

The death it held tightly 
holding at bay 
the intended, original thought.

In the end, it was 
only a pebble, as small as
an atom

Stuck in place, 
unable to grow, 
to feel.

Yet it held its purpose 
to stand in the way 
to be there

Providing a platform 
for the most amazing 
show on earth.

The thought behind it all. 
The Life bursting at the seams. 
The Love. The beginning and the end.

The Life that bears 
us and our burdens 
filling our hearts with

Comfort. 
Peace. 
Utter joy.