The tree that does not have to fight,
For sun and sky and air and light,
But stood out in the open plain
And always got its share of rain,
Never became a forest king
But lived and died a scrubby thing.
The man who never had to toil,
To gain and farm his patch of soil,
Who never has to win his share
Of sun and sky and light and air,
Never became a manly man
But lived and died as he began.
Good timber does not grow with ease,
The stronger wind,
The stronger trees,
The further sky,
The greater length.
The more storm,
The more strength.
By sun and cold,
By rain and snow,
In trees and man,
Good timber grows.
Where thickest lies the forest growth,
We find the patriarchs of both.
And they hold council with the stars,
Whose broken branches show the scars
Of many winds and much of strife.
This is the common law of life.
“Most people go through life following the path of least resistance.
They often fail to understand that this philosophy is what makes river crooked
— and sometimes does the same for humans.
Much like the trees, the strongest men/women aren’t those that are most protected;
the strongest men/women are those that have struggled against the elements — and survived!”