Oh, to be the tallest tree, the one that sees beyond
The ordinary necessary canopy to long,
To dream of new, of more of such
That hope and faith grow strong.
But no, I am a simple branch on some most average shrub,
Destined to shade the forest floor, to house both bird and slug.
My future holds no special plan, no grandiose reward.
I am but one of millions here who never will have soared
Above the others in my lot, o’er all of us so low-
Ly planted in the rocky soil so desperate to grow.
Yet each of us make up a part of some much bigger life.
Together we maintain the sum so all of us survive.
Each tree, each shrub, each branch, each leaf must play its own small role
Within the labyrinth of life, the fabric and the whole.
Yet knowing this I must confess the hardship that I face
Accepting that my purpose here in spirit, time and space
Can never feel fulfilling, nor exciting, nor enough
To satisfy the wanderlust I fathom up above.
That could I be the tallest tree, the one that sees beyond
The ordinary necessary canopy to long
For more, for new, for stars and sun
For purpose over none.