Roots

I was intended to be a flower.

A delicate beauty that would bud

And bloom.

So like the Spring I would come

And go

Quite subtly about my way.

Bending and wilting

As the sun told me when.

Obeying the rhythms of Nature.

I was supposed to shed petals

So soft and so gentle 

Upon the Earth for all to admire.

Waiting for someone to pluck me on up

And carry me home to display.

But something must have gone wrong

When they placed my bulb in the ground.

Perhaps just a bad patch of soil?

Or not enough water or shade?

Because to my intentions' greatest dismay

I grew tall and proud into a Tree.

Sturdy and strong like an ox

Only letting sun pass where I choose.

 Reaching out far to the corners 

Of the Sky.

Helping the world to breathe.

Telling all who behold me:

I am Alive. I am Real. I am Free.

Deeply rooted in all that is Me.