We don't know what say the clock, For we are too busy, we are alone. We know not where we walk 'Till we look up from our phones.
How, then, are we to see where our lives are headed? How, then, are we to see that we are embedded?
What I saw; it's not as I once knew. What I practiced; it's not how I once grew. I stood as a growing, but bending tree. Only to be awakened by a strange and different breeze.
I go now to plant my roots elsewhere, I go now in search of a different air. My fellow trees, I hope, will still be within reach, That our branches' bonds will not grow weak.
I pray that He leads me with His staff, That I will listen to His will for me. I hope that I will not be like the chaff, But instead, by streams of a new water, be like the tree.
[composed on February 26, 2012, revised on March 22, 2012] This was written soon after I left a church group I found to be unhealthy for me.