A Reason to Live

It was a moment now, and a moment back then,

When I  wondered how we started, and how we would end.

Like the seed to a shrub, and then to a tree,

Flocked with leaves and fruit.

Then the seasons change and it will all disappear,

As quickly as lighting would.

For many condemn the cold,

The barren trees and frozen road.

For who finds joy in dull and grey,

The sadness of a gloomy day.

I look at a tree outside,

The way its stood for years without reason,

And wonder what it thinks of love, betrayal and treason.

It does not matter where it has been or will go,

But it knows the seasons will change,

And it will get another chance to show,

Its green leaves, its juicy fruit,

Its warmth to a nest of leaves.

For people speak now of why they should,

Look for reasons, wishing they could,

Finding a new life and live it all,

For this one is just too small.

I look at the tree and what it thinks,

Of life and its meaning,

Of freedom and chains,

Of finding happiness or the right kind of gains.

Does it matter to it that it does not move,

Or can't express the pain of a bruise.

His friends are those, that give him company,

The feather filled friends chirping in harmony,

But only on sunny days, when all is well,

Never in the winter - the lonely days of hell.

Must it not be sad, with a life so dull and all the same,

No identity, no name,

No changing places, nothing to achieve,

No worries about money, no expensive needs.

I think how sad it is for the tree,

A life so boring and without reason,

Just adapting to every season.

Just then a wind shakes it up,

Nothing to lose in the winter, its already stripped enough,

May be you cannot take away, what is firm within,

The rest does not matter, it is an empty din.

From the tree I learnt what matters most,

The hope for a future, the patience to change,

For no one to life can dictate,

The way to make them happy, or adjust its pace.

The tree stands tall, fighting it through,

The cold winds, the frost and dew.

It has no purpose, no greater calling,

Yet many run around it every day,

Searching endlessly for a better way,

For a newer promise of something to give,

While the tree does not need a reason to live.