When April showers and May flowers...
So the process of falling begins
As the petals drop onto the screen.
I begin to see the reality
The real you
the real me
The dirtiness that comes from falling petals
once beautiful,
once lovely
once fragrant and on display to see
next the falling of the vanity
the hope of a new bloom soon
the rising sun and setting moon,
as the day becomes awake
the reality begins to become clear
seeping
sleeping in
dirt.
Colors of pink, yellow brown and gold
the brownish tints that were before un-shown
have now come over the petals
that of which were separated from the others
gracefully dance
gracefully falling
all to leave the branches bare
but the branch remains nimble, strong, the same color brown.
The petals have had their time
their moment to shine, now for the growing to begin
once again the growing will come
the blossom scent still lingering
once again the branches remain
remain for the birds to perch, in.
working for the next time, the next year that their flowers will show
but in the process they continue to grow. Growing towards the sky
the blue hue, the yellow light the orange light,
or that which is not, since colors are the reflection of the thing they reject, the one shades that they wont accept.
How brave are colors. Bold and true to their stance.
The tree does not pick their colors,
nor the flowering bloom
but once again they remain firm to put their energy their efforts into digging their roots deeper and deeper.
They know the one that provides the water and sun,
for roots to grow deep and leaves to eat from.
The heart of the tree grows deep. As it adds layer to layer
bark which thickens as protection
but once corroded, is taken over by another
by others, those whom look to it for shelter, for food.
The cycle continues.
The heart grows deep.
Those in awe of nature,
Gazing at the art the art we call nature
the art which blooms, shows the characteristics which comfort
us.
One to Look At:
An old tree--longevity
A full bloom--beauty
Falling petals--grace
Roots which run deep--security, strength
Birds of the air--free
But what we forget to see is the real thing behind the tree's
the one who came
who created things more beautiful
who did not just stop at tree's but made you and me
Like a branch:
He took hands
and commanded them to stand
looked at the eyes and stepped in,
saying to go, be free from sin.
Like the flower:
Poured out the beauty stored inside,
the kindness to let others enjoy
many came to see,
many came to watch and enjoy the view
but few realized the point while the mission in bloom
but he still continued to extend his arms to the sky, reaching out until his time
"For it is not my will but thine"
Roots:
Which shook the parallel at time,
He got alone and found the water of which we seek
the connection to the Father, so perfectly deep that when dry seasons approached
he stood without reproach
there
un-condemned
because his foundation was deeper than his 12 other friends
In the craziest storm,
reached down deep and cried our Abba forgive them,
Like birds that perch:
Many came to learn,
Many came just to listen
Some came to test
And others just to feed
But time and time again,
his arms extended for them to draw near
bearing the weight
he beckoned them to trust and know him
In the storm
Unwavering in word or deed,
not afraid of the noisy sea
or a coward to the unseen.
the day they came for him to attempt and cut him down
he stood firm.
Quiet
silent to those who wanted to kill him.
But what they did not know is the tree will come alive again
In the noise of the storm,
spoke that the winds and waves be still. Peace.
Just like it says, be still and know that I am God.
