When is a Branch Not a Branch?

It is the raindrops that make us see,

They cleanse the soul and wash away the dirt,

Caressing our faces and kissing our lips,

Bringing worlds of imagination,

That only exist in dreams.

For most, the rain simply passes,

and we awake to our lives, forgetting that for a moment

we may have glimpsed something

out of the corner of our eye.

But for some, the kiss of destiny awaits in a night like that,

It comes on those nights when the rain pours,

And lightning flashes.

But what messages does it bring I wonder,

and perhaps more importantly, for whom?

It could be a seed,

Planted in the mud on a stormy night,

Under a tree that provides no shelter.

Your hands squelching inside the earth.

The seed grows roots,

Up and down, left to right.

It is everywhere and nowhere, and you see now.

This is the path.

This is all the paths.

But these are not just paths.

Each and every root is not a root but a future.

You see branches of possible futures.

This choice and that choice

branching again and again and again.

You see love and hope and despair and destruction.

You see dreams come true and dreams end.

You see joy and sadness and gardens and flowers and storms.

You see water and earth and fire and air and

as your mind expands you see the tapestry of fate.

It is the tree of life,

So daring in its simplicity.

You spend your whole life searching for it,

Only to realize you’re standing under it.

If you are so lucky to reach out,

Or so bold to look up,

You may find yourself face to face with destiny,

You are right to be afraid,

It is everything you have dreamed of.