Parable of the tree

A childish whim grew a tree in the dark ;

Where light never strayed and eyes never strayed.

But when the sun & moons changed after a long,

Threw a soft tinted light with an amber glow:

 The little tree longed to bloom.

 "Alas dear tree! ", a little bird cried;

 "Your time hasn't come, and it is never meant to be ;

the spring of your blossoms ,

 the season of new dreams.

Let your leaves fall softly, let your branches go wry;

Let new seeds be sown,

Let the new hopes be reaped.

All is not meant to blossom, 

All that grows;

All is not meant to grow, 

All that is sown ".