Wise men named this thing we do,
it's called the tree of life.
But all the growing I have done,
has led to endless strife.

The picture I have, of this life,
has taken time and will;
the tree of life that I have seen,
lives on a great big hill.

The climb I started, way to late,
for shadows cross the path;
sometimes to find the right way up,
I look and then I ask.

As time is passing quickly on
and hardships block the way;
the hardships stand like great big rocks,
I climb them every day.

Sometimes the other climbers help,
but they are busy to;
ducking rocks and climbing higher,
for a better view.

Then one day a stranger spoke,
and motioned me aside;
He told me of a better path,
if I could lose my pride.

"If you can follow in my steps,
and not once look around;
If you do, we'll make this trip,
before the sun goes down."

He hadn't made two dozen steps
and I was left behind;
the rage I felt was hate itself,
self pity on my mind.

It wasn't long, I stopped to rest,
his detour was a bust;
he'd offered help and ran away,
a stranger you can't trust.

When daylight came,I followed on,
and searched with all my might;
to find the hidden path he took,
and hoped I found it right.

Then I was filled with happiness,
his promise he had kept;
for flowers grew in every place,
the stranger took a step.