My life is a probability tree.
My roots fork deep, though slow.
My decisions break the ground for Me
To become more stable as I grow.
Each day are choices to be made.
Each morning to sleep on or to rise.
Each time I draw aside the shade
To greet the challenges of blue skies.
Though true that there may be greyer days.
Though rains may fall outside.
Though sometimes it feels harder to praise
To be at peace and abide.
Trees can take years to mature.
Trees are often quite boring to view.
Trees sometimes even need manure
To allow their soil to refresh and renew.
So let patience be my rhyme & reason.
So may steady progress be my goal & love.
So that my behavior be pruned in due season
To direct my limbs towards heaven above.
I am learning to branch out to new spaces.
I attempt to overcome shyness and malaise.
I admit it is vulnerable and painful in places
To stretch beyond a tendency to laze.
An object at rest tends to remain in that state.
An object in motion does the same.
An object to Newton's laws comes too late
To ever affect the memory of his good name.
