I sit in silence, pondering,
My soul in sin and error pining,
In the dark waiting to feel its worth.
My roots, my roots, they’re shallow.
They gasp for water, for sustenance,
For the life that is much deeper.
My obstinate flesh claws at my heart,
The last red leaves clinging to an autumn tree,
Rejecting my labor to be bare.
But the winds of grace will strip my branches,
And I will stand tall, ready for spring’s new birth.
My white bark shines and my roots grow deep.