Born from a seed,
My foundation begins from well below.
I hold the earth in my feet
And expel the atmosphere from my lungs.
The wind and rain batter my soul,
But I remain strong, less a few dead leaves,
A haven to the needy and less fortunate,
And a shelter to the homeless.
Often neglected and abused,
But the dead wood is shed.
More powerful I grow,
And more useful I become.
Across the world my ancestors traveled,
Yet here my place remains,
A beacon to the lost
And a champion to the uncertain.