In my forest there is a tree.
To find it, I follow the overgrown path to where it stands.
It waits steadily for me to return,
to sit beneath its branches,
to listen.
My forest rises lush and green
From a floor nurtured by hope and faith.
What grows here is spectacular.
But without light
Without the warmth of the sun,
It will be stunted and die.
What grows here,
Is remarkable beyond my wildest dreams.
It might hide in shadows
Until finally, in reaching for the sun,
I catch a glimpse.
When I walk in my forest,
I think
What a wonderful world this is.
Why do I deny myself the blessings
Of this vibrant place?
It might never get easier to find the path,
But I hope it will get easier to find my tree.
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