The Fallen Fruit Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

A seed is sown, a sapling grows,
It mimics how the parent shows.
The apple, round and red and bright, Falls near the trunk, in sun or night.

We're told we're made
like God above,
Reflecting His eternal love.
But skies grow dark, and storms still brew,
With bitter deeds, and hearts untrue.

Why hatred's fire, and anger's sting?
Why broken trust, and sorrow bring?
If made in likeness, pure and grand,
Why darkness stains this human land?

Is this our path, a shadowed test?
To bear the wrong, put good to quest?
Perhaps not worse, but learning still,
To choose the light, with all our will.