A silent tree stood sad, forlorn,
upon a lonely, wasted path;
where twisted rock and brittle stone,
bled silent like a broken heart.
The tree, it weathered, winds blown wild,
that lashed its leaves and left it bare;
Bruised and battered, wrecked, reviled,
Trapped within a tempest's snare.
And then one day, the tree, it fell,
to mingle with the waiting earth;
It shed its bark, it's empty shell;
It lay unknowing its own worth.
A man, He came, and raised it high,
upon a green triumphant hill;
A beacon, reaching for the sky,
according to His holy will.
The tree, it thrived, spurng forth to bear
glorious flower and luscious fruit;
And all because it felt the care
of someone who unveilved the truth.
And all of us are like that tree,
So care and set somebody free.
©
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem