Roots

It hurts to be barren
When winter comes in all its iciness
And all I have turns to brown and falls away
Why do my roots not nourish me?
How will I survive without my leaves?

I have taken an ax to my own trunk
I have free climbed to new heights
I have conquered the world and made it mine
But here I wither and pass without my base
I must choose to grow tall instead of climb high

For I am beautiful, secure on the ground
The wind may blow through my branches
But I don’t ever move out of place
No storm can break me, no quake can rule me
For the colors that grace me show life through death

How Good is the News that I cannot be killed
For I will come awake with spring
But in death I am white with snow, covered in purity
As what has fallen away deteriorates
I will grow from the nourishment it gives

Good soil exists
I know this is true, and the truth I seek
Father grow me deep
Let life come from what I stand on
Father deeply grow me.