The Wind And The Tree

What should I compare my walk with the Lord to?
I can be the mighty tree, with branches that reach the ever-blue,
The tree stands firm and sturdy, even with a bark full of opened wounds,

And still survive through the days, the months, and the many moons, 
My roots, which are my beliefs in the Lord, will stand on solid ground, 
Compared to the dead trees beside me, my tree will be well-found, 
My tree will be blossom and attract the eyes of plenty,
Making them inspect what makes this tree so special and unlike so many.

And what should the Lord be?
Why, the wind that so gently breezes past my tree,
The eye cannot see this gentle wind, yet you can feel its presence,
The eye cannot see it glide through the branches with the tree's absence, 
But without the wind, the tree would be lost, 
Nothing to guide its branches at all costs, 
The wind guides the branches towards the direction it should head, 
And when the tree gets impatient, and bends towards its own direction instead,

The wind gets fiercer and shakes the tree until it makes itself known,
Now the tree knows the wind is still there and its never alone, 
The tree, with the comfort of the wind, will stand up tall,
And face all sorts of destruction, and understanding it will not fall.