Stand Against The Storm Poem by Max Jason Wallace

Here I stand a seedling, against the endless storm.
What small chance have I, to grow up to the norm?
Oh, the dauntless perils I face, each 'n every season,
And how I seem to thrive, to me’s beyond all reason!

Today I bend against, the mighty winds so savage.
Continually exploiting, my weaknesses they ravage.
One day I'll stand tall, against the wicked storm!
The best of which will leave me, battered 'n worn.

For there comes a time, when one can bend no more,
A point in one's life, to be tested to the core.
Ti's then when tried, and proving to be true,
Real strength abounds, in the depths of one’s roots.

Until that time comes, I’ll prepare and patiently wait.
Growing secure and righteous, at a steady rate.
For once my roots have grown strong, in this fertile land,
I will seize the opportunity, and then I’ll make my stand!