Somebody once said to me
While holding a small acorn seed,
“Hiding inside is a mighty oak tree,
Waiting to grow, even though we can’t see,
One day standing as tall as can be,
For a tree, it comes from a seed.”
Then somebody else said to me,
“No, no, it doesn’t just come from a seed.
A tree’s roots gather nutrients up from the deep,
Which get stitched into branches, and flowers, and leaves.
So a tree doesn’t come from a seed;
It comes from the earth underneath.”
Then yet another someone said to me,
“No, no, no, not from the earth underneath.
Moisture, my boy, is the thing a tree needs:
Rain from the clouds, and the clouds from the sea.
So a tree doesn’t come from beneath,
It’s plain that it comes from the sea.”
Then one last good friend said to me,
“Micah, the truth is as strange as can be.
The air that is carried around on the breeze,
The very same air we exhale when we breathe:
It’s our breath that makes up a tree.
A tree comes from you and from me.
Yes, it’s our breath that makes up a tree.
A tree comes from you and from me.”