METAPHORS FOR GROWN-UPS

 

The tree stands long and fast,
Roots in firm foundation.
Branches bearing fruit.
Limbs reaching upward,
  Gentle, bending, swaying.
Unable to move beyond the place of God's desire.

The tree is constant.
Its trunk is sturdy,
Giving support to branches,
That extend from it.
Leaves lift to the sun. And bend in the breeze,
Against an ever present blue sky.

The tree says:

"I am strong.
My roots are firm.
I have born fruit.
I can sway and bend.
I am where God wants me to be.

Yet, I am unhappy.
I want to be a cloud."

 

The cloud moves freely about the azure sky,
tossed here and there by unseen currents of air.
Rumbles, bubbles, tumbles, glides, spreads,

hangs low,
is grey.

So dark it completely disappears to a deep blue that covers the sky.
The pink-orange that begins the day, is the cool that warms.

The cloud says:
"I am free!
I have no boundaries.
I am at the will of the wind.
I have no roots that plant me firm in heavy soil.

I am born on the wind,
Swept through the sea of time.
Ever changing; ever present.
I can twist and turn,
  Destroy,
  Create,
  Unify,
  Scatter.
Float.
Entice.

The great communicator, I am.
I stop the angel's fall.
God made me what I am and I am revived in that knowledge.
I love who I am!"
 

The sky surrounds both tree and cloud. It has no sympathy. It is firm, consistent.
It has compassion for the plight of the tree; it has joy in the clouds which move so

freely through it.

The sky looks down on tree and cloud: knows both are good creations.
Knows each has a purpose; a place.

Never questions the authority of its domain.