A spindly tuft of grass, forlorn beneath
majestic pines, gazed upward at the sky.
“I’m such a tiny speck in all of God’s
creation—tell me please, what use am I?”
On fringes of an ocean-rolling wind,
a whisper came, “Your value, little blade,
is equal to the tallest tree, your place
essential in the cosmos I have made.
“The outward lines and curvatures which form
containers for the flow of life don’t show
the attributes of worth. Your inner surge
reveals the truth; just spread your roots—and grow.”
The meaning of this message was absorbed
with humbleness by earth’s inhabitants—
except for us. We blatantly invent
our own degrees of “worth” . . . what arrogance!
Copyright © Laryalee Fraser • Used with permission • All rights reserved.
Photo by Tero Karppinen.
Photo by Tero Karppinen.