Today I want to set out to try something I’ve never done. I want to paint a picture with my words. I can press a button on a camera with easy and edit it to the ways that please the eyes. I want to use my words to paint this picture.
I embarked upon a journey today. I went to the Mediterranean. On Spain the journey is primarily through mount, valley, and tunnel. It is in this area that I wish to paint.
As I look out of my window I see a great expanse. Between two barren Goliaths. The mountains stretch toward the heavens. In the far end of the expanse there is a mount that causes me to tremble. It races upward and outward. It stands tall reaching finally toward the sky with one single peak. On the side is of this grand mount I see a single tree. It is of no great proportion, nor is it of great mention. Perhaps this is what caused it to stand out. The branches were in no way massive or strong. The roots while spread wide did not grow deep. The tree still stands, however. It is there with no lack of resistance.
The heat robs it of what little moisture it has collected. It breathes in the air of little moisture. The tree stands in the midst of much wind. The tree stands.
This thought grabs me captive. The tee stands. No water, low probability, yet it stands. It stands in on the face of a huge mount. A mount that reaches toward the sky, yet this small tree still lives, and still thrives on the adversely, little withered mount.
The mount pushes the wind out of its way. It needs no water. It needs little, while this tree stands in need of so much. The tree stands whipped by wind, and thirsty for water.
Before the tree stood, the mount was formed. It was shaped. It was made to be strong, to provide. It is as if a hand reached and formed it like clay into the exact shape it need be made. This same hand formed all of its brother mountains, and sister seas. These relatives of great proportion were shaped, as was the tree.
The tree stands upon this mount face. Seemingly unimportant this tree stands. It has little worth in the eyes of the world. It has little meaning to many. Yet it stands. It stands as if it had a protector, almost as if it had a father. A father that saw its worth. A father that did what it took to give life to this tree.
The tree stands because of its supplier. The tree stands only because of its father. The father stands