A poem about being yourself, no matter WHAT!!!
A man went to the river,
To see what he could see.
He saw three great life givers,
In the form of redwood trees.
He asked the first to walk,
And saw with no surprise,
Without stopping to balk,
The tree's roots began to rise.
The great redwood announced,
That he would find another place.
He would run and jump and pounce,
Til the end of his long days.
The man turned to the second tree,
And asked if it could fly.
The redwood wanted to see,
And so he rose into the sky.
He declared from high above,
That his freedom was now his.
He would search the world for love,
And come back a romantic whiz.
The third tree sat and stared,
At this man who'd tricked his friends.
His bark-like teeth were bared,
And his branches didn't bend.
The man asked of this stranger,
If he could swim within the water.
But the tree knew the world's danger,
And would not become it's fodder.
He told the man in words,
So wise and unmoving,
That flying was for the birds,
And he would not give in to proving.
The redwood would not take,
The advice of any man.
He would not put his life at stake,
To move across the land.
He knew the nature of a tree,
And would not change himself.
He knew what he was born to be,
Not a human, imp or elf.
The man tried his hardest,
But the tree, he wouldn't budge.
His hands became hard fists,
And he tried to give a nudge.
The tree gave him a look,
That he found hard to discern.
He said I will not become a book,
I have learned all I can learn.
My friends that you have killed,
Were feeble in the mind.
All the wisdom I now wield,
I will share with you in kind.
A tree is not for flying,
Nor walking on the earth.
From his birth til dying,
A redwood's bark is made his worth.
What he was made to be,
Was all the tree could ask.
And what else could he see,
When put upon the task?
He was happy with himself,
And would not change it for another.
He wouldn't take the world's wealth,
Just to become it's brother.
The man contemplated this,
And sat deeply thinking.
He looked down at his wrists,
Then up at the stars a-winking.
He realized he had changed,
Who he was for all his brothers.
His realization felt strange,
He had become just like the others.
He now saw who he was,
And who he had become.
It was not just because,
The influences of some.
His experience with life,
Was not what made himself.
All the pain, hardship and strife,
Had been there just to help.
He was not what he had learned,
That was just a mental suture.
For himself he'd turned,
Toward the decisions of the future.
He now saw that he was him,
Perfect in all it's glory.
He would not sink or swim,
Because of fateful stories.
The lessons of the past,
And decisions of tomorrow,
Should not change him to the last,
His beliefs should not be borrowed.
He looked at the wise tree,
And tears welled within his eyes.
He said, I knew not what I couldn't see,
I heeded all the changing cries.
I did not hold true to me,
And for that I am ashamed.
I now know what I can be,
And forever be the same.
I am me to my very core,
I will take who I am inside,
And hold true to what I live for,
To never see my true self,
Run away again and hide...
