Maybe the limbs of a broken tree will heal themselves in time Or maybe the limbs from that broken tree will petrify... Hard as stone. As I peel back the layers I find things I never knew were there And as I listen to my prayers I hear myself confused and scared. This broken tree feels like it's part of me somehow controlling My destiny. Has the seed of a broken promise decided what I will be? And I, left to myself can only hope to survive. And I, left to myself can only slowly die. How long will I drift? would I not know the difference? Have I weathered so long that I've been shaped by this ocean? Will the legacy live on in me? like father, like son? I don't believe that what I am is determined by what Precedes me. And now I have to realize that the past is not my future And in Christ I'm a brand new creature. And I, left to myself can only hope to survive. And I, left to myself can only slowly die. But given grace I know I can, Given grace I can learn to forgive. In the face of all of this. Given grace I can truly live.