In the woods, in the mystery of its littleness
still a seed becomes a tree.
In the dark dank soil it swells and burst
forth on the way to its destiny.
In the fierce fear of being hurt
still love is birthed.
In the incubator of our puny hearts it
grows slowly into vitality.
In the daily round of doubts where reason rules
still faith buds.
In the quest we discover
a loyal and fierce and untamed deity.
In the wounded souls that have known betrayal
still forgiveness can come.
In the acid reflux of wrath peace soothes our spirit
healing comes not from revenge but mercy.
Then we discover the power of a mustard seed.