The Acorn

One day while I was sitting
On a park bench by the way,
My attention was drawn downward
To an acorn where it lay.

The acorn seemed so fragile,
Moved easily by the wind,
So small and insignificant 
I couldn’t help but grin.

Then my eyes turned upward
To an oak tree on the lawn,
It was beautiful and majestic 
So solid, big and strong.

I soon began to ponder
The acorn I despised,
And took another look at it
With reverential eyes.

Caught up in amazement,
It captivated me
That such a tiny acorn
Could grow to such a tree!

Then the years went passing,
My health in great decline,
My body grew in weakness
And strength was no more mine.

I despised my broken body
So frail and powerless,
I loathed my life’s existence
And gave in to bitterness.

Then that little acorn
Entered back into my mind,
And hope began to flutter
In this fragile heart of mine.

I soon began to ponder 
The body I despised,
And took another look at it
With reverential eyes.

For the body that is sown
In weak fragility,
In resurrection power
Will rise up like a tree.

And the glory laid upon it
Will outweigh what was before,
Power, strength, and honor
Will be forevermore.

So when you gaze upon me,
Tossed so easily by the wind,
Don’t deride my weakness
With a condescending grin.

The way that I am now
Is not how I will be, 
For today I am an acorn-
Tomorrow an oak tree!

A poem by,

     Joseph Elliott Vaughan