It is in the silence that you can hear
the stillness which excludes all but nature.
All that matters.
Like a tree that needs a breeze to prove it exists,
stand firm, be forged to life.
Your ideals battered, your terms rearranged,
thorny branches smoothed, withered blooms dead-headed.
Tested at the root, sinking firm as storms rage about.
Then bending come alive, resist to be reborn.
The noise of life can dull the ear,
be still, be quiet, and truly hear.