Be a tree

Lessons on sticking with it and rejecting popularity's pull

"Be a tree"

by Joel Howard

When I was a seed

I was not a tree

But there was a voice

somewhere inside of me

saying, "Be a tree, 

Be a tree." 

When the seed broke open

And sprouts came out

The voice continued though

I was nowhere to be found, 

"Be a tree, 

Be a tree." 

The sun and rain 

Came down on my soil

My dreams of treedom 

Were bursting, bursting

But no one could see me

And yet still within me, 

"Be a tree, 

Be a tree." 

Stick poked up

Wind felt cold

No fruit on my body

No leaves to unfold

Still silent counselors

Told my soul

"Be a tree, 

Be a tree." 

Leaves and arms

Grew steady and small

Wind still shook me

I shivered, but grew tall

More were above me

And few were below, 

"Be a tree, 

Be a tree." 

Three feet tall

Is this how high I will be? 

Will I be like all 

the other trees? 

I look like a plant 

Not even a bush, 

"Be a tree, 

Be a tree." 

When I had arrived

Buds began to open

Joy inside was incomparable

And I was floating

I thought I was done

But the still voice was not, 

"Be a tree, 

Be a tree." 

When fruit came out

I was tempted to sell it

Surely I could open

A grand old fruit market

Was my calling to change

Now that I had arrived? 

"Be a tree, 

Be a tree." 

Winters and summers

Autumns and springs

The wind still cold

And the storms beat me

The fruit came and went

How was I to stand? 

"Be a tree, 

Be a tree." 

Would I die one day? 

Would my journey be done? 

To the ground I'd return

And my race would be won

What to do as I retire? 

What to say as others 

look to me? 

"Be a tree, 

Be a tree."