A mango tree in forests
deep,
Where red ants crawl
and climbers creep.
It bears sweet fruit
upon its bough,
Yet birds devour and
insects plough.
Still, it grows—tall, branchy,
leafy
Its roots hold firm,
its stance steady.
Man may gripe, "It
grows in vain."
Although rich in beauty
and in gain,
None have seen its
blossoms bright,
Nor tasted its fruit's
delightful bite.
Millions starve in need’s harsh glare,
Unaware the tree is
growing there.
Yet the tree makes no
complaint,
Feels no shame nor discontent.
Though unused and left
unknown,
It seeks no praise from
man to own,
And though the birds
may steal its store,
It still gives fruit
and asks no more.
It grows faithfully with
great delight,
Obedient in its
Creator’s sight.
Unlike man, who craves
renown,
And loses joy in
thankless frown.
This tree—it thrives
for God alone,
Content to serve where
it is sown.
Should I not learn from
such a tree,
No matter what my lot
may be?
No matter if men scorn
or cheer,
I must live for my
Creator dear,
Not for man, nor for my
story,
But for God's eternal
glory.
Composed on 26 July 2024, Ghatkesar, Hyderabad.