The wind comes and the wind goes. It tangles, twists, and dances in my hair, awakening hope and love within me. But does it end there?
Endings aren’t always the happy sort, you know…
What if I rooted where I was planted? I had no choice where I fell, but I can uproot to sow elsewhere. Yet what if I didn’t? What if I stayed, right where I was, basking in the light of day, chilling in the freeze of winter?
What if the wind didn’t stop me from growing? What if I was unbending like the trees? I could withstand the harsh glances of winter and the scorching trials of summer. What if I could breathe so easily, my breath aiding those around me.
Trees don’t plant themselves. It takes work–hard work. After all, trees don’t start as trees. Each begins as a tiny pocket, a minuscule seed. Sometimes it’s planted with purpose. Sometimes it rides the wind, sails the waves, or hitchhikes on furry beasts, but, regardless of how it arrives, you can’t deny the seed made it. The seed exists, dawning for a brighter day.
Seeds never stay as seeds–unless harvested too early. Sometimes people pick seeds before their roots ground, their flowers bud. People fry them. Boil them. Bake them. Eat them. Cannibals they are.
Do they realize seeds bring life? Do they recognize the seed’s potential? Maybe it sees beyond the expected. Maybe it dreams of becoming more, because trees are more than capable. People harvest trees for greater purposes, after all.
Trees don’t die in vain, as do the seeds. They get sawed and planked together to create your grandfather’s rocking chair, where he smokes and rocks and dwells on a life poorly spent.
Through pain and humiliation, a tree gets cut and mashed and refined and molded into thin, white paper, birthed with new purpose. Yet, oh; how it’s wasted! Authors murder with ink stained hands, but they are not condemned. They risk the sin to bring you this. To spread the words of life and speak into hardened hearts and far-off souls.
Maybe seeds dream these things and maybe they don’t. We will never know for sure. Yet through it all, one thing I know is certain:
A seed is never just a seed, and a tree is far beyond that.