Mark 10:27

In a village, quite small and merry, lived a man, wise and very. His hair was gray, his age was grand, a hundred years, with wisdom spanned. 'A tree can't grow here,' they'd all say, where the ground was hard, and skies were gray. But the man just smiled, with a twinkle in his eye, 'With God,' he whispered, 'let's give it a try.' They planted a seed, in the ground so bare, and the man said a prayer, in the cool evening air.

Days turned to weeks, no change was seen, the villagers doubted, their hopes were lean. But the man with gray hair, never lost his faith, he watered the ground, with patience, he'd wait. Then one morning, a sprout so small, broke through the ground, standing proud and tall. 'Impossible!' they cried, in joy and in shock, a tiny green sprout, from the hard, rocky block.

The sprout grew into a tree, so grand and tall, its leaves were green, it stood through fall. The villagers watched, in awe and wonder, as the tree did grow, a miracle, no blunder. 'With man, it's impossible,' the old man would say, 'but with God, my friends, there's always a way.' The tree became a symbol, of faith and of might, showing all that with God, they could conquer the night.

Years passed by, the tree still stood, a testament to faith, in that little wood. The villagers learned, from the man so old, that with God, all things, can break the mold. 'What seems impossible, by hands of ours, with faith in God, blooms like flowers.' The man with gray hair, now more wise, left a legacy of faith, under the skies.